The Space Between
by Juliabohemian
Summary: A series of dialogue only conversations that tell the story of House and Cuddy's relationship, following the season 6 finale. Will take place over a span of about 30 years. Spoilers up to HELP ME. The rest is all mine. Rated M for language & adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**_DO NOT PROCEED UNTIL YOU HAVE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE:_**

_Hello boys and girls. I'm a canon junkie. That means I generally try to keep my stories as close to canon as possible. It's for that reason that I am trying very hard to keep an open mind about where the show is headed. Because the alternative is that I will no longer be able to enjoy it._

_I have decided to spend the summer constructing a story that explores the idea of House and Cuddy being together, as realistically as possible. That means that I will be writing it exactly how it would probably go, if this were real life and not a product of someone's out of character, girlish fantasy. There will be dialogue only conversations between a variety of characters. Like this first chapter, for instance, is between Wilson and Foreman._

_If you're a fan of my work, but NOT this pairing, I would like to ask you to stop reading now. I won't be offended. If you simply don't possess that degree of self control, I would like to ask that you at least refrain from commenting, just to let me know how much you hate this pairing. Why? Because I hate this pairing too. But I love a challenge. And that's all this is for me, a challenge._

_That being said, enjoy. I've got about 14 chapters in progress at the moment and hope to update this at least once a week._

* * *

_(The night of Hannah's death, Wilson asks Foreman to go check on House, and then call him to let him know how it went.)_

**Chapter 1**

"So...did you check on him?"

"Yep."

"And is he alright?"

"Seems to be."

"You're absolutely sure."

"Yes."

"I mean, I don't want to jump to any conclusions. But after what happened earlier tonight, it's very possible that he might decide to go back on the Vicodin."

"I...didn't see anything that would substantiate that theory."

"Well that's good, right?"

"Yeah."

"So where did you find him?"

"In bed."

"..."

"Or _on_ it anyway."

"Did you take his vitals?"

"Not...exactly."

"Then how the hell do you know that he's okay?"

"There are…other ways to tell if someone's heart is beating."

"Are you trying to be funny? Because this really isn't the time."

"_Definitely_ not trying to be funny."

"Did you at least check to see if he was breathing?"

"Trust me. He was breathing."

"But did you _actually_ check?"

"No."

"You need to go back and check."

"Wilson, he's fine. At the moment, he's probably _better _than fine."

"Well excuse me if it seems like I'm overreacting...but supposedly several hundred pounds of dirt and rubble fell on top of him. He could have internal injuries. He could be hypoperfusional. He probably has raised liver enzymes."

"I didn't see anything that was diagnostic of cardiovascular shock."

"But what if it isn't vascular? It could be an acute stress reaction."

"Which isn't life threatening and tends to resolve itself within a few hours."

"For _normal_ people. This is House we're talking about."

"I didn't see any evidence of an acute stress reaction either."

"How was his breathing?"

"Well..."

"Was it labored at all?"

"It was...rapid."

"_How_ rapid?"

"It's not diagnostic, at least not in this case."

"But you don't _know_ that for sure, because you didn't even take his vitals."

"I examined him...visually."

"From what, like ten feet away?"

"More like five."

"So he was hyperventilating and you don't think it's qualifies as a symptom?"

"I didn't say he was _hyperventilating_. I said his breathing was rapid."

"You don't think _rapid breathing _qualifies as a symptom? He could have a pulmonary embolism or a pneumothorax."

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't have either of those things."

"And what are you basing that on?"

"The fact that there are plenty of _other_ reasons for increased respiration."

"Like what?"

"Like…physical exertion, for instance."

"How the hell would he be _exerting_ himself? He's in bed."

"Um…"

"It could be his heart. Did you check for cardiac tamponade?"

"His heart is fine."

"But how can you even know that? You didn't even take his pulse, for God's sake."

"He's not dead, Wilson. I observed him myself. He was _very _much alive. He was breathing. His heart was beating and he was most definitely _not_ in shock."

"Look...it's not that I don't believe you or anything. I'm just…I'd feel better if I went and checked on him myself."

"I _really_ don't think that's necessary."

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing. I'm just saying that he's fine. Therefore you don't have to go check on him."

"How did his shoulder look?"

"Fine."

"Was it still bleeding?"

"I...didn't really get a chance to examine it properly."

"Why not?"

"Because I was…distracted."

"Distracted by what?"

"I...really don't feel comfortable being the one to impart that information."

"What the hell's going on, Foreman?"

"Nothing that you should be getting worked up about."

"But something _is_ going on."

"Yes."

"Well regardless of whatever state it might be in, the wound on his shoulder is going to need to be re-bandaged."

"I think he's got that covered."

"Oh?"

"Which is impressive if you think about it, considering he didn't have anything _else_ covered."

"What does _that _mean?"

"Eh...never mind."

"I appreciate you going down there. But again, I think maybe I'd feel better if I just checked on him myself."

"And again...I honestly don't think that's a good idea."

"Yet you still haven't offered me any sort of explanation for that."

"I already told you. It's not my place to impart that information."

"If you know something, why can't you just tell me what it is?"

"Because doing so would mean violating his confidentiality."

"Then why are we even having this conversation?"

"You asked me to check on him and let you know how he was doing. And I _did_ that."

"Then why does it feel like you're not telling me everything?"

"Because I'm not."

"..."

"Look...if you manage to figure it out on your own, that's great. But my involvement ends there."

"Well...thanks, I guess."

"So what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you going to drop in on him?"

"I think maybe I'm just going to call him instead. If nothing else, it'll be slightly less confrontational."

"Yeah...that sounds good."

"..."

"So when are you planning on doing that?"

"I don't know. What difference does it make?"

"None."

"Then why are you asking?"

"I just...I think you may want to hold off on making that call."

"_Hold off?_ For how long?"

"Hmm...no more than an hour or so."

"What's going to be happening in _an hour or so_?"

"It's more like what _isn't_ going to be happening."

"Can you stop being cryptic and just tell me what's going on?"

"I honestly don't know if he'd even bother answering the phone. But I'm pretty sure that he wouldn't appreciate being interrupted twice in one night."

"What the hell would I be interrupting?"

"Physical exertion?"

"But he's in _bed_."

"Are you being intentionally dense?"

"Now _why_ would I do that?"

"You wouldn't. I just...I genuinely thought you'd have figured it out by now."

"It's been a really long day."

"Right."

"..."

"I'm...not really sure how to put this."

"How to put _what_?"

"House is breathing rapidly."

"So you've said."

"House is breathing rapidly because he's...exerting himself."

"So you've _also_ said."

"And he's in bed."

"..."

"It's been my experience that beds are made for more than just...sleeping on."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well okay then."

"..."

"And _that's _what you didn't want to be the one to tell me?"

"That's...part of it."

"House getting laid might be rare. But it's hardly shocking."

"It wasn't really _what_ he was doing, so much as who he was doing it with."

"So who _was_ he doing it with?"

"I...can't say."

"But you said you didn't have a problem with me figuring it out on my own, right?"

"Right."

"So how about if I just ask _yes_ or _no_ questions?"

"Wilson..."

"Humor me."

"Alright...but just a couple. Then I've got to go."

"Was it a hooker?"

"Definitely not."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Was it someone I know?"

"Yes."

"Was someone who works at the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Was it someone who I might consider to be a friend?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

"What?"

"That didn't really tell me much."

"Seriously?"

"I told you, it's been a really long day. I'm exhausted."

"Yeah you'd kind of _have_ to be."

"What does _that _mean?"

"Nothing."

"..."

"You know what? If you give him some time, he'll probably end up telling you himself."

"How _much_ time?"

"I honestly don't know."

"But you think he'll _choose_ to tell me at some point in the near future."

"Actually, yes. I do."

"That'll have to be good enough, I guess."

"..."

"I mean...maybe getting laid will be therapeutic for him."

"One can only hope."

"At the very least, he'll be in a better mood."

"Which will be good news for everyone."

"Well thanks for going to check on him. I really appreciate it."

"Hey...no problem."

"Listen...Cuddy asked me to call her, to let her know how House was doing."

"She did?"

"But I was thinking that maybe it would be better coming from you."

"Why?"

"Because you were there and I wasn't."

"That's...strange."

"What is?"

"When exactly did Cuddy make that request?"

"I don't know. A few hours ago. Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure that she _already_ knows how House is doing."

"How would she know that?"

"I...can't say."

"Well what the hell _can_ you say?"

"Are you going to call her at home?"

"I don't know if she'd even pick up at this hour. I was going to try her on her cell instead."

"This is just a suggestion. But you might want to wait about an hour before calling_ her _as well."

"Wait...why?"

"Because she probably wouldn't appreciate being interrupted either."

"..."

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction."

"And you're _sure_ that it was her?"

"Positive."

"_How_ positive?"

"Like...a hundred and ten percent."

"Huh."

"Which is weird, because I thought she was engaged to that private detective guy, the one with the argyle socks. What's his name, Lance?"

"Lucas."

"Right."

"She must have broken it off with him."

"She didn't say anything to you about it?"

"No."

"Well if she ended their relationship, she must have done so _very_ recently."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because she was wearing the ring yesterday morning. I saw her showing it off to some of the nurses in the clinic."

"Well...she apparently changed her mind."

"I guess so."

"..."

"Hey...look on the bright side. At least you weren't the one who walked in on them."

"True."

"Now there's a metal image I won't be getting rid of anytime soon."

"Wait...you mean to tell me that they were actually..."

"Going at it?"

"For lack of a more appropriate term."

"Yes. They were _going at it."_

"..."

"Rather nakedly and vigorously, I might add."

"Thanks for the graphic description, Foreman."

"No problem."

"There's a visual I didn't need."

"Hey, I refuse to suffer alone."

"Well...that at least explains the increased respiration."


	2. Chapter 2

_Sometimes the best listeners are those who cannot speak. _

_House wakes up to the sound of a baby crying and remembers that he's not in his own bed._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Well hello, young lady."

"..."

"It's_ Rachel_, right?"

"…"

"You've got a mighty healthy set of lungs there, Rachel."

"..."

"Which would probably be great...if you were say, a pearl diver or an opera singer."

"..."

"But you're not."

"..."

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"…"

"Of course you don't. You can't tell time. You probably don't even know what _time_ is."

"..."

"Although...the fact that it's still dark outside is fairly difficult to misinterpret."

"..."

"But just for your information, it's not even six o'clock yet."

"…"

"And I'm guessing that since you don't know how to tell time, you also have no concept of the days of the week."

"..."

"Because otherwise you'd probably be aware that some people like to sleep _in_ on Saturday mornings."

"…"

"I realize that you're not one of them, of course. I'm just making a point."

"…"

"So you're probably wondering who I am and what the hell I'm doing in your room."

"..."

"Which isn't unreasonable. You don't know me and I don't know you, and yet here I am."

"..."

"I mean, hey...if you showed up in_ my _bedroom at five forty-seven on a Saturday morning, I would _definitely_ be asking questions."

"..."

"I can only imagine what sort of conclusions you're drawing right now."

"..."

"It's funny, you know?"

"..."

"I mean funny as in _peculiar_, not funny as in _ha ha_."

"..."

"When I got on my bike last night, to go check out that crane wreckage…it didn't seem like a very important decision at the time."

"..."

"In fact, I barely put any thought into it at all. I just kind of went."

"..."

"And between you and me, I wasn't even planning on staying for more than a few minutes."

"..."

"It's not that I don't like helping people..."

"..."

"Okay, it _is_ that I don't like helping people."

"..."

"At least I _ordinarily_ don't. Or I didn't. Or something."

"..."

"But I definitely would never have predicted that the next morning, I'd be waking up _here_."

"..."

"Some fairly significant stuff happened between now and then, of course."

"..."

"I'll kindly spare you the gritty details. They'd probably bore you anyway."

"..."

"Although...if you're _that_ enraptured by the Winnie The Pooh mobile that's dangling over your crib, I'm guessing that your threshhold for entertainment is rather minimal."

"..."

"Thing is...when you started crying a few minutes ago, I was already awake."

"..."

"But your mom wasn't."

"..."

"I do feel compelled to mention that, regardless of how it might seem, your mother's failure to rise in order to attend to you has nothing to do with _you_ at all."

"..."

"It's merely a result of human frailty."

"..."

"Not that you care. I just thought you should know that, in case you were planning on taking it personally."

"..."

"Long story short...since I was here _and_ already awake, it just made more sense for me to be the one to get up and come check on you."

"..."

"And now you're probably wondering why I was even awake in the first place."

"..."

"The truth is, I've never really slept well...not even when I was a kid."

"..."

"I'm sure you can relate."

"..."

"Usually I can handle it."

"..."

"I drink a lot of coffee, take naps."

"..."

"I know what you're thinking. Why would anyone want to take a nap?"

"..."

"You probably think they suck now. But trust me, you will eventually come to appreciate them."

"..."

"And I guess I've been kind of distracted, which isn't helping matters."

"..."

"I've had a lot on my mind."

"..."

"Which seems to have exacerbated my existing sleep issues."

"..."

"I mean, first there was the whole _Sam _situation."

"..."

"I never saw that coming. Although I'm not sure if it would have made any difference if I had."

"..."

"And then there was the whole being kicked out of Wilson's apartment thing."

"..."

"That I actually_ did _anticipate. Although knowing it was coming didn't make it any easier."

"..."

"Then there was Alvie."

"..."

"That whole thing was kind of surreal. Although I've discovered that pretty much anything involving Alvie tends to be."

"..."

"But he actually showed up _exactly_ when I needed him most."

"..."

"That's what happened with your mom too...she showed up at _just_ the right moment."

"..."

"And I don't want to know what I would have done if she hadn't shown up at all."

"..."

"I don't want to know how close I came to just pissing it all away."

"..."

"Of course Alvie left again...just when I was starting to get used to having him around."

"..."

"That seems to be what people do."

"..."

"Or at least most of them."

"..."

"And your mom...no offense, but I doubt that she'll be the exception."

"..."

"It's nothing personal. It's just that my previous experience indicates...the issue isn't going to be whether or not she'll leave me, but merely a matter of _when_."

"..."

"Because everybody leaves eventually, right?"

"..."

"That's just the way it is."

"..."

"And then there was Hannah."

"..."

"I don't get it."

"..."

"I'd known her for _four_ hours, four hours and eleven minutes, to be exact."

"..."

"I've watched movies that were longer than that."

"..."

"I'm not used to feeling this way."

"..."

"I'm not used to _feeling_ at all."

"..."

"It's almost like...whatever this is, it's completely out of my hands."

"..."

"She trusted me with her life."

"..."

"Not that people haven't done that before."

"..."

"But this was somehow...different."

"..."

"I've been a doctor for twenty-four years...and I can't recall ever having been affected by a patient's death. I mean, not to this extent."

"..."

"And there's this peculiar kind of helplessness...like I have no idea where to go from here."

"..."

"Know what I mean?"

"..."

"You're basically sleeping in a cage. So I think maybe you do."

"..."

"And what's crazy is that, up until about ten o'clock last night, I was under the impression that your mom was still planning to marry Lucas."

"..."

"But for some reason, that's no longer the case."

"..."

"Which is good news for everyone, right?"

"..."

"Especially you."

"..."

"I mean, the guy drives an ice cream truck for God's sake. If that doesn't scream _pedophile_, I don't know what does."

"..."

"And he's like ten years younger than your mom anyway, which is just creepy."

"..."

"And he was a massive tool."

"..."

"And I have nothing concrete to base this on, but I'm guessing he was probably lousy in bed."

"..."

"I suppose I should glean some satisfaction from knowing that_ he_ was the one who got dumped."

"..."

"But really, the _ultimate_ justice would be for him to develop some sort of physical disability."

"..."

"Then he could slip in the shower and break his neck."

"..."

"And at the last minute, he would come to the conclusion that he would have been able to save himself, if only he'd installed some grab bars."

"..."

"I know, I'm evil."

"..."

"But I can dream, can't I?"

"..."

"Anyway...you've probably got a fairly short attention span. So just to recap, your mom is pretty tuckered out."

"..."

"And that's why I'm here right now, because I thought it would be best just to let her sleep."

"..."

"She had a very long night."

"..."

"No doubt the highlight of which was scaling Mount Gregory."

"..."

"Not just once, but _twice_."

"..."

"Yeah...after the whole _Foreman walking in on us _thing, I thought for sure she'd be done for the night."

"..."

"Now there's a conversation I can't wait to avoid."

"..."

"By the time we wrapped that up...well it was already ten o'clock. She had to come back here to relieve your nanny."

"..."

"And regardless of the fact that I could have just as easily slept in my_ own_ bed, your mom seemed to think that after what happened with Hannah, maybe I shouldn't be alone."

"..."

"I'm not sure how much I really agree with that. But your mom is very persuasive."

"..."

"She insisted that I follow her back here in my car."

"..."

"Notice I said _car._ Not the bike...which she _now_ claims has been making her nervous for the past four years."

"..."

"How can you be nervous about something for four years and never mention it to anyone?"

"..."

"See that's what we call a _rhetorical _question. It doesn't really have an answer."

"..."

"I do want it to be clear though, that I wouldn't ordinarily share this kind of information with a total stranger."

"..."

"Or anyone else for that matter."

"..."

"But I haven't pitched a double header like that in ten...maybe fifteen years."

"..."

"I'm tempted to rent a billboard, so I can share that information with the world."

"..."

"Okay, not really. It's just that, at this point in my life, I'm happy to know that all of my equipment still works."

"..."

"My refractory period is usually a few hours at least."

"..."

"Not that you'd even want to know something like that."

"..."

"You're what, eighteen months old?"

"..."

"So you have no idea what the hell I'm talking about anyway."

"..."

"Which given the subject matter, is probably for the best."

"…"

"But for future reference, that whole_ Mount Gregory _thing is what we call a _euphemism."_

"..."

"I just figured I should tell you. Because if I'm going be around, you're probably going to be hearing a lot of them."

"..."

"That and sports metaphors."

"…"

"The reason I said _if _I'm going to be around, is because I don't know if I will be."

"..."

"I don't want to assume, and I definitely don't want to make any promises."

"..."

"I just...I have no idea where this is going, or if it's even going anywhere at all."

"..."

"For all I know, this was just a one time thing."

"..."

"Or a two time thing, depending on how you look at it."

"..."

"But still...it's entirely possible that I'll leave here today and neither of us will ever speak of this again."

"..."

"I mean, that probably sounds stupid. But that's the effect I typically seem to have on members of the opposite sex."

"…"

"Or really, carbon based organisms in general."

"..."

"And besides that, I kind of get the feeling that it's not really up to me."

"…"

"Because let's face it, normally I'd be doing everything in my power to manipulate the situation."

"..."

"But that's rarely been fruitful in the past."

"..."

"In fact, it's never really been _fruitful_."

"..."

"That's why I was thinking that...maybe it's time for a change."

"..."

"So I've decided that even though I have no good reason to believe that this will end in my favor, I'm just going to roll with the punches."

"..."

"I'm just going to wait and see what happens."

"…"

"Because I'm not a romantic, not by a long shot."

"..."

"But I really think it's possible that this _could_ last."

"..."

"Not forever, obviously. But maybe for a little while, a few weeks or months."

"..."

"And that wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

"…"

"The problem is...things like this, I kind of have a tendency to screw them up."

"..."

"Anything that's going too well...really _anything_ that has any sort of potential for success, is in danger of being sabotaged."

"..."

"My therapist says I have _abandonment issues_."

"..."

"My parents...neither of them were particularly supportive of my interests or endeavors. And they failed to provide me with anything remotely resembling approval."

"..."

"In addition to their other shortcomings, my mother and father were also oblivious to the fact that children need physical affection to help facilitate healthy emotional development."

"…"

"I honestly have no idea why I'm telling you any of this."

"..."

"I guess maybe because...I know that the chances of you remembering this conversation are pretty slim."

"..."

"And I have to tell someone."

"..."

"Seeing as I've finally managed to alienate my shrink."

"..."

"The _one_ guy who was on my side from the start."

"..."

"Yeah that's makes_ all _kinds of sense."

"..."

"See what I mean about screwing things up,_ just_ when they're starting to go well?"

"..."

"I have an appointment to see him on Tuesday."

"..."

"But I don't know if I'm going back."

"..."

"I _want_ to. I just don't know if I can."

"..."

"He's probably written me off already, if he hasn't forgotten about me altogether."

"..."

"Not that I blame him or anything."

"..."

"I'm actually surprised it didn't happen sooner."

"..."

"But I was thinking."

"..."

"If by some chance I _am_ going to be around here on a regular basis, maybe you and I could make some kind of deal."

"…"

"You know like...maybe if I help you, you can help me."

"…"

"Not that I'm really in a position to _help_ you with anything. I'm actually not sure if there's anything you need me to help you with."

"…"

"But if there is, maybe we could initiate some sort of exchange."

"..."

"Take a few days to think about it."

"..."

"Then you can have your people call my people and we'll work something out."

"…"

"Well...it looks like your mom isn't going to wake up, at least not right now."

"…"

"And she's definitely going to be pissed when she realizes that I turned off her alarm."

"…"

"But seriously...who the hell sets their alarm for six-thirty on their day off?"

"…"

"That's another one of those _rhetorical_ questions."

"..."

"So I guess it's just you and me, kid."

"…"

"That's okay though."

"..."

"We're not idiots. We can figure this out on our own, right? How hard could it be?"

"…"

"You slept all night. So you must be starving."

"..."

"So how about we blow this pop stand and go hunt down some breakfast?"

"..."

"Sound like a plan?"

"..."

"One more thing."

"..."

"Just in case it wasn't obvious, I'd like to remind you...anything that we might have discussed here just now stays between us."

"..."

"Okay?"

"..."

"So glad we had this talk."


	3. Chapter 3

_Takes place a few hours after Chapter 2. House reveals some hidden domestic skills. Not a hundred percent happy with this chapter. But I've decided not to stress over it._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Ah...well if it isn't _Sleeping Beauty_. It's about time you got up."

"House…it's after ten."

"Yep."

"I had my alarm set for six-thirty."

"I know. I turned it off."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because it's Saturday."

"I _know _it's Saturday. I get up early to jog on Saturdays. That's why I set my alarm."

"What do you do with Rachel?"

"I have a jogging stroller."

"Is that the funny looking thing in the garage?"

"What were you doing in the garage?"

"Starting a load of laundry. There was a big pile of dirty clothes on the couch."

"I was going to take care of that today."

"Well now you don't have to. In fact, the last load should be dry by now."

"It's been a _really_ busy week."

"All the more reason to sleep in, and let the insomniac do your laundry."

"You didn't have to do that, House."

"Have you ever known me to do anything, just because I _had_ to?"

"No..."

"I just thought you could use a break."

"I appreciate the gesture. But I'm training for that breast cancer fundraiser."

"It's only three kilometers."

"I like to be prepared."

"You can jog anytime, Cuddy. You have a very expensive treadmill in your living room."

"That's not the point."

"Yes, it is."

"..."

"Think about it. You're an adult. You can do whatever you want. You can jog_ anytime_ you want. Why does it have to be at the buttcrack of dawn?"

"It...doesn't."

"Then sit down...relax. It's Saturday. We can eat Oreo flavored Pop Tarts and watch cartoons until _Soul Train _comes on."

"As tempting as that sounds..."

"And besides that, I think you got _plenty_ of exercise last night."

"Which would have been very useful if the breast cancer fundraiser was _sex_-a-thon."

"I'm certain that you would see a dramatic increase in participation, if that were the case."

"I'll be sure to bring it up at the next board meeting."

"..."

"Are you cooking something?"

"Technically baking."

"And what are you _baking_?"

"I noticed that your bananas were going bad."

"You did?"

"So I made some bread."

"..."

"Minus the crushed walnuts, since you didn't have any."

"..."

"You are however, out of vanilla extract. I used the last of it."

"I didn't even know I owned a bottle of vanilla extract."

"I wasn't sure if you liked banana bread. But I figured that if you didn't, you could always pawn it off on the clinic nurses."

"I...actually love banana bread."

"Well that's good. Because there are two loaves of it in your oven."

"What time did you wake up?"

"About a quarter to six."

"It was already midnight by the time you made it over here."

"So?"

"So we didn't even attempt to fall asleep until almost two."

"Well I might have been here sooner, if someone hadn't insisted on us driving separately."

"It's not _that_ far from your house to mine."

"No, it's not. But I was practically running on fumes. I had to drive out of town to get gas, because none of the stations around here are open after ten."

"That means you got less than four hours of sleep."

"Yeah...that's about average for me. I typically get about four or five hours a night."

"How are you able to function on four hours of sleep?"

"I guess that depends on how you define _function_."

"..."

"I drink a lot of coffee and grab naps in my office whenever I can."

"Have you ever thought about getting a prescription for some kind of non-addictive sleep aid?"

"Well first of all, no truly decent sleep aid is going to be non-addictive. And second…long term opiate abuse damages dopamine pathways. That tends to affect, among other things, circadian rhythms. So really I'm lucky that I get any sleep at all."

"But you've been clean for almost a year. Couldn't some of that damage reverse itself over time?"

"Not significantly enough to make a difference."

"Don't you get tired?"

"I'm used to it. I haven't slept like a normal person in years."

"I had no idea."

"Well it's not exactly something one brings up in a casual conversation."

"I wasn't aware that you even _had_ casual conversations."

"Making it all the less likely that I would share that information."

"How long has Rachel been awake?"

"Since a few minutes before I got up."

"That was over four hours ago."

"Yep."

"She probably needs to be changed."

"Well it sure is a good thing that you told me."

"Why?"

"Because it would _never_ have occurred to me otherwise."

"You...changed her?"

"Twice, actually. Once at six and again at nine-thirty. I was going to chart it. But I couldn't find a pen."

"Did you make sure the little strip with the bunnies on it was in the front?"

"Yep."

"Did you use powder? Because she's had this rash for a while now. I've tried like three different things and so far, nothing is clearing it up."

"That's probably because it's not a rash."

"It's not?"

"It's a yeast infection."

"Are you serious?"

"No, I'm kidding. What could be funnier than an eighteen month old with candida albicans? Did you hear the one about the kindergartner with ringworm?"

"..."

"It's no big deal. Fluconizole will clear it up in a matter of days. And you can get that over the counter."

"I didn't even...what causes a baby to have a yeast infection?"

"Oh, you know...parental negligence."

"_What?"_

"I'm sorry. I assumed that your goal was to feel guilty about something over which you have no control. I was just trying to help."

"..."

"There's nothing you did to cause it. Everyone has yeast living inside their body...in their mouths, their digestive tracts, and their genitals. Some people just have a little too much, which sets off an inflammatory response. It's not a crisis."

"I never said it was a _crisis_."

"The skin needs to be able to breathe. Microorganisms thrive in warm, wet, dark places…like the inside of a diaper. Unless you have some reason to believe that her immune system is compromised, or that she might have juvenile diabetes, this is hardly a medical emergency."

"..."

"All of which you already know...so outside of your inherent need to punish yourself for things that couldn't possibly be your fault, I'm not sure why we're even having this conversation."

"..."

"Next time you give her a bath, just lay out a towel and let her go diaperless for a few hours."

"That...actually sounds like a good idea."

"Yeah well...I can't take credit. I read it in some parenting magazine."

"And why would _you_ be reading a parenting magazine?"

"Because my other options were Golf Digest and Knitting Universe."

"…"

"My therapist's waiting room has rather limited selection of reading material."

"..."

"It was either that or staring at the fish tank for twenty minutes, and that always gives me a headache."

"Right."

"..."

"Well she's probably starving by now. She needs to eat."

"Wait a minute."

"What?"

"Children need sustenance? Damn...I really need to get a notebook and start writing this stuff down."

"You fed her too?"

"Changed her, fed her, dressed her and entertained her. So once again, it's Saturday. Sit down and relax."

"What did you feed her?"

"Oh you know...nuts, wild berries, shellfish, red wine and some lead based paint chips. I wanted to make sure I covered all the basic food groups."

"..."

"I put her in her high-chair with a cup of apple juice, a few slices of banana and a handful of those multigrain Cheerios."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Well...good."

"_Is_ it?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because you're _saying_ it's good. But the tone of your voice implies something more along the lines of...annoyance."

"I'm not_ annoyed_."

"If you say so."

"I'm just...surprised."

"Why?"

"You know what? Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Can you hand me her cup?"

"What for?"

"I usually add a little water to her juice to dilute it."

"Um..."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"No...tell me what you were going to say."

"This is probably not what you want to hear. But I kind of...did that already."

"Did _what_ already?"

"Added water to the juice."

"Okay _now_ I'm annoyed."

"Don't be...really."

"Why not?"

"I'm just messing with you."

"So you _didn't_ dilute the juice with water?"

"No...I did."

"..."

"It just...it wasn't the product of a lucky guess."

"Then what the hell _was_ it?"

"I overheard you arguing with your assistant the other day."

"Arguing?"

"Well it was more of a discussion."

"A discussion about what?"

"The appropriate age to transition a child from a bottle to a sippy cup."

"..."

"She told you that if you let Rachel drink from a bottle past the age of two, it would eventually damage her teeth and she would end up needing braces when she's older. Then you told her that your sister sucked her thumb until she was six and she never needed braces. Then she said that Rachel was going to get cavities from drinking all that juice, at which point you told her that you thin it out with water, for exactly that reason."

"But how did you know what to feed her for breakfast?"

"Now that _was_ a lucky guess."

"I'm not buying it."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't believe in guessing."

"..."

"You're not always right, House. In fact, you're often wrong. But either way, you don't act unless you're one hundred percent confident about whatever it is you're doing...which means that you obtained some sort of assistance or information from an outside source."

"An _outside source_? What is this, Watergate? Have you and Dustin Hoffman been spying on me from a hotel across the street?"

"Stop trying to change the subject."

"Are you sure you even know what the _subject_ is?"

"What?"

"This isn't about me knowing how to change a diaper, or figuring out what to feed your kid for breakfast."

"It's not?"

"You're just insecure about your parenting skills."

"What the hell does my being..."

"Just listen to me for a second."

"..."

"You feel inadequate and uncertain. You're wondering if you're screwing her up, if the fact that you're unmarried or that you're not biologically related is going to somehow scar her for life or make you a less effective mother. Then I came along...probably one of the least nurturing people on the planet, and managed to perform some random tasks with what appeared to be minimal effort."

"What are you saying?"

"That the key word there is _appeared_.

"..."

"I have a tendency to make things look easier than they actually are, when in fact I often have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

"..."

"And from what I've come to understand, pretty much every parent on Earth thinks they're inadequate in _some_ capacity. The reality is...you're going to screw your kids up one way or another, even if you do everything right."

"That's...probably true."

"..."

"But that_ still_ doesn't explain how you knew what to give her for breakfast."

"You're right. It doesn't."

"So there _is_ a reason."

"Yep."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you now."

"Why not?"

"Because you're going to laugh at me."

"Since when do _you_ care about being laughed at?"

"Well that depends."

"On what?"

"Who's doing the laughing."

"..."

"It was like you said."

"What was?"

"I consulted an _outside source_."

"You mean like the internet?"

"No, I mean like my mother."

"..."

"You said you wouldn't laugh."

"I'm not laughing. I'm...smiling."

"Semantics...you're obviously deriving some _sort_ of entertainment from this."

"Wouldn't you be, if our positions were reversed?"

"Oh absolutely."

"..."

"Anyway...she was understandably suspicious as to why I would even be requesting such information."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I'd kidnapped the Lindbergh baby."

"..."

"She wasn't particularly amused. Although I'm thinking that's probably because I called her at six-thirty in the morning."

"..."

"So...are you going to relax now?"

"..."

"What?"

"Why is it so important to you that I relax?"

"The question is, why _isn't_ it important to you?"

"..."

"When I was dating Stacy, one of her biggest complaints was that I never disclosed anything...personal. And in the rare event that I did, it was like pulling teeth. I realize now how much of an obstacle that was for us. And the truth is, rectifying that wouldn't have required much of a sacrifice on my part."

"..."

"If I knew then what I know now, I probably would have tried harder to make things work. But I didn't. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, even though it doesn't come naturally to me, I'm going to make an effort to share things with you. Just as long as you understand that my experience with such things is rather limited."

"What does that have to do with wanting me to relax?"

"My inability to share wasn't the only obstacle in our relationship. Stacy devoted almost all of her time and energy to her career. Whatever remained was almost exclusively spent on something obligatory. She never wanted to go anywhere or do anything, for the sheer sake of entertainment. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed that it was her goal avoid anything that might be remotely spontaneous or enjoyable."

"..."

"So that being said...I am now going to tell you something _personal_."

"And let me guess. In exchange for this information, I will be expected to spend the rest of the day _relaxing_."

"Correct."

"Fine."

"Seriously?"

"Sure...go ahead."

"Well that was easy. And I was all geared up for a really good argument."

"Hey...if it means getting you to voluntarily disclose something personal, I'm willing to compromise."

"I did two NICU rotations when I was still in Michigan...about twenty-two years ago."

"I didn't know that."

"There aren't too many people who do."

"Why did you do it?"

"I thought it would be easy money."

"Was it?"

"It was at first."

"But you said you did two rotations."

"So?"

"So you must have liked it, if you signed yourself up for an additional rotation."

"I needed the money...and there were things _about _it that I liked."

"Like what?"

"It was dimly lit, quiet, slow paced...and the patients never argued with me."

"That's because they couldn't talk."

"Exactly."

"..."

"I ended up quitting, halfway through the second rotation. That's why you didn't know about it. I've never included it on my CV."

"Why did you quit?"

"This one day, four babies were born, all within an hour of each other, all requiring neo-natal care. Same time the next day, all four of them were dead."

"What killed them?"

"Four entirely different things. I think there was one with hydrocephalus. One had meningitis. The other two died from complications related to organ system failure."

"That's awful."

"We had to break the news, of course. And it was just me and this other guy. So we split the chore in half, each of us taking two families."

"..."

"I'd done it before already, the whole _giving bad news _thing. So it shouldn't have been a big deal. I actually thought I did okay, at first. I tried to stay calm and rational."

"Were you successful?"

"Right up until one of the dads punched me. I had no idea that he would react so violently, so I obviously wasn't anticipating it. But this wasn't just an ordinary punch either. It was hard enough that I almost blacked out, and I broke my wrist when I hit the ground."

"Did you press charges?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"His child had just died, and he was very...apologetic."

"But that's why you quit, because of that guy?"

"It wasn't just that. I was tired of being the object of people's frustrations. It was a thankless job. There was no gratitude from the parents whose children had been saved. All they cared about was having someone to blame, if things went wrong. The day those four babies died, I walked out during the middle of my shift and I didn't go back. I didn't even bother trying to collect my final paycheck."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For sharing that with me."

"You're welcome."

"..."

"I think you can sit down now."

"Right."

"Want a Pop Tart? "

"I'd love one."

"..."

"So...what channel is Soul Train on?"


	4. Chapter 4

_Sunday -The day after chapter 3. Phone conversation between Cuddy and House._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Hello?"

"Hey...it's me."

"Please tell me that this is a booty call."

"Sorry, it's not."

"What are you wearing?"

"Sweats."

"Oh, baby."

"And a baggy t-shirt."

"Are you wearing a bra?"

"Yes."

"Damn...panties?"

"What about them?"

"Are you wearing any?"

"I'm...not at liberty to say."

"Wait...you're not wearing any panties?"

"I was out of the office all day on Friday, because of the crane wreckage. So I'm currently buried up to my neck in paperwork."

"Hold on. I'm not done talking about the panties."

"I can't play today, House."

"Why not?"

"I have a stack of time sensitive material that I need to sift through and sign...and the chances of me completing that task, with you anywhere nearby, are rather slim."

"And that's why you're calling, just in case I was thinking about dropping by unexpectedly and inadvertently finding you footloose and panty free?"

"That...certainly could be one reason."

"Fascinating."

"What is?"

"I realize that the majority of my behavior suggests otherwise. But I'm amused that the possibility would escape you completely."

"The possibility of what?"

"Just because I _choose_ not to do something, doesn't mean I can't."

"I still don't know what you mean."

"I _am_ actually capable of performing tasks of a clerical or administrative nature. I can fill out forms, I can make notations, I can write letters and proposals, I can make follow-up calls and I can send out patient referrals."

"I know that, House."

"Do you? The reason I mention it is because it seems as though you've arbitrarily disregarded the possibility that instead of hindering you in some fashion, I might prove to be an asset."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way...and if that's the way you took it, I'm sorry. You _are _an asset, House."

"Uh huh...and the caveat?"

"You have the tendency to be very distracting. And that can be fun...sometimes. Other times, not so much."

"..."

"But I appreciate the gesture."

"Yeah? Wait until you see some of my _other_ gestures."

"I didn't call you because I needed help, House. I just...didn't want to wait until tomorrow to have this conversation."

"You're dumping me already?"

"_What?_ No."

"So what the hell is it that can't wait?"

"I spoke to the EMT who rode along with you in the ambulance the other night."

"Yeah? And what did he have to say?"

"He wanted to let me know that Hannah's memorial service is going to be held at Bethany Presbyterian church in Trenton on Wednesday at noon."

"..."

"I was thinking...maybe you and I could go together."

"You think our first official date should be a funeral?"

"It wouldn't be a _date_."

"When a well dressed man and a well dressed woman get into a vehicle together, travel from one location to another and then back again, it's usually called a _date_. Except of course when there are ropes and firearms involved, in which case it would be called _kidnapping_."

"You'd be _well dressed_?"

"Sure...if I were planning on going. Fortunately I'm not. Which is just as well, since I can't seem to find the ironing board."

"I don't want to assume what you're feeling, especially since we haven't really had time to discuss it. But just based on what I've observed and your reaction to Hannah's death, I think you might feel better if you went."

"This isn't about making _me_ feel better."

"It's not?"

"A woman died rather unexpectedly, a _young_ woman. Her family is grieving, reaching out for anything that they think might help them make sense of their loss. In light of that fact, I really think that whatever I might be going through right now is rather insignificant by comparison."

"..."

"That and...the husband already knows what I look like."

"So?"

"So I'm the last person he needs to see right now. He's probably filing a wrongful death suit against me, as we speak."

"Would he even have a case?"

"He'd have a _great_ case. You do realize that there's no _consent to treat _form in her file, right? That's because there is no file, outside of the post mortem. We didn't get any kind of written _consent_ whatsoever."

"There was verbal consent."

"But you can't prove it."

"We have a _duty to rescue_."

"True...assuming you can convince a judge that amputating a woman's limb in a non-sterile environment can be considered _reasonable care. _Then there's the fact that waiting as long as I did to amputate actually qualifies as gross negligence."

"The amputation was medically necessary."

"But waiting four hours to perform said amputation wasn't.

"And you think he's going to sue you over that?"

"The majority of people believe, that regardless of the circumstances and their own degree of personal responsibility, they deserve to be compensated for their losses. The mentality is such that, one way or another, someone _will _pay."

"And you think that's what he wants, for you to pay?"

"He's going to want to hold someone responsible, and taking all relevant facts under consideration, I am the likeliest candidate."

"Well...if he does end up suing you, don't worry about it. We'll do our best to settle."

"_We?"_

"I'm just as responsible, House."

"Not even close."

"Well you can't sue someone for something that was entirely out of their control."

"I'm just going to assume you've never watched _The People's Court_."

"Well...if the family does decide to file a suit, the hospital will provide you with legal representation."

"Why?

"Because what happened...wasn't your fault."

"I know you mean well, and I know that you care. But I really wish you would stop telling me that."

"Telling you what?"

"That it wasn't my fault."

"I'm telling you that, because it's true."

"I was being stubborn."

"So was I."

"I waited too long. I wasn't objective. I knew at the_ time _that I wasn't objective. We should have amputated immediately. The chances of complication free reperfusion were practically nonexistent. There was no good reason to wait."

"The risk of a fat embolus would have been the same."

"But she might have _lived_. She would probably end up resenting me for chopping off her damn leg. But at least she'd be alive."

"Yeah…and if she didn't go to work on Friday, a crane wouldn't have fallen on her. That's life, House. Some things just happen."

"I was _so_ sure I was doing the right thing."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought…the best thing I could do for Hannah was to advocate for her, to assert her wishes, and to do everything in my power to help her keep that leg. In my attempt to preserve what was basically an expendable body part, I forgot that I was supposed to be saving her_ life_. And if you hadn't intervened, I would have_ risked _that life. I would have risked it just to save her damn leg."

"They wouldn't have even found her down there, if it weren't for you."

"You don't know that."

"House...she could have died down there and it could have been days before anyone discovered her body."

"Yeah...she got to live a few hours longer because of me. Whoop-dee-fuckity-doo."

"She got to say goodbye to her husband."

"And her final moments were spent staring at me, while she suffocated to death in an ambulance, immediately after having her limb sawed off, anesthesia free."

"It had to be done, House."

"You weren't there."

"I _was _there."

"I mean...you weren't _right_ there. You didn't have to see it, or feel it."

"I heard it, House. I heard the whole thing. I was waiting right outside the entire time."

"I know everyone thinks I'm an ass. I know they think that I treat people like crap, that I don't care about anyone but myself. And those things are probably true, to some extent. But even taking them into consideration...I can't believe I was capable of inflicting that kind of pain on another human being."

"..."

"I've been around the block, Cuddy. I've seen every type of pain and suffering imaginable, and _that _was the ugliest sound I've ever heard."

"It's okay, House."

"It's _not_ okay."

"But she..."

"She was screaming and I just kept right on cutting. That's _not_ okay. It's the _opposite _of okay. What kind of sick person does something like that?"

"A doctor who knows that his patient's options are limited."

"On an intellectual level, I completely understand why that _should_ make me feel better. It just doesn't."

"Feelings aren't rational, House. They can't just be intellectualized."

"..."

"If there were any other way, if there were a _better_ way, you'd have explored it."

"Would I? Because I sure as hell don't remember being open to suggestions, even _good_ ones."

"It took you two minutes to perform the surgery. Maybe even_ less_ than two minutes."

"And those were probably the two worst minutes of her entire life."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"I've never met anyone who was as dedicated as you are, to finding reasons to hate themselves."

"That's what you think I'm doing?"

"Isn't it?"

"..."

"Look...this is all irrelevant. If Hannah _had_ lived, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it."

"Thought twice about what?"

"You'd have been okay with the idea of her experiencing physical pain, even extreme pain, as long as the ends justified the means, as long as it had a point. But she died, and you were left with the realization that she'd suffered for nothing."

"If you're trying to cheer me up, you're headed in the wrong direction."

"..."

"What's funny is...she apologized."

"To whom?"

"Me."

"For what?"

"For _needing_ me. Apparently _needing_ me is something that people should either avoid or otherwise feel bad about."

"Are you sure that's what she meant?"

"I don't know."

"..."

"And she asked me to pray with her."

"Did you?"

"I thought that if I claimed to be an atheist, it would give me a decent excuse to say _no_, one that no one would waste time trying to dispute."

"Are you saying you're _not_ an atheist?"

"No. I'm saying that I'm uncomfortable with that label...or _any _other label, for that matter."

"So you lied to her, in order to avoid discussing the matter further."

"I honestly didn't think I was lying. I _believed_ what I was saying when I said it."

"So you _do_ believe in God."

"I don't know."

"You either do or you don't."

"Apparently on some abstract, subconscious level."

"..."

"A very wise woman once told me that you can't be angry at God and_ not _believe in him at the same time."

"_Are_ you angry at God?"

"I think maybe I am...or I was."

"How did Hannah react when you refused to pray with her?"

"She persisted."

"And you declined?"

"No...I caved."

"Why?"

"I was tired, and didn't want to argue...it wasn't a huge sacrifice on my part."

"Can I ask what it was that you prayed for?"

"That we could get her out of there, that she would live, that I wouldn't do anything to screw it up."

"..."

"I guess God wasn't listening."

"But you don't know that. How do you know that what happened wasn't meant to be?"

"_Meant to be?_ I realize that I'm not an omniscient, all powerful being. But I cannot fathom what greater purpose this woman's death could possibly serve."

"If she hadn't died, would you and I be having this conversation? I would have gone through with the engagement. I would have tried desperately to convince myself that it wasn't a mistake...and ultimately I would have been miserable."

"So your relationship with me is more important than the preservation of Hannah's life? She was a decent, nice, pleasant person. She didn't deserve to die, especially not _just_ so you and I could get laid."

"I tend to think that there are some things that are beyond our comprehension."

"_The Lord works in mysterious ways _is merely a tired explanation for things that actually have no explanation."

"..."

"What you're saying is that our inability to come up with a plausible explanation, doesn't mean there isn't one."

"Yes."

"..."

"So...are you still in therapy?"

"Wow...way to cut right to the chase."

"If it's too personal, I'm sorry. You don't have to answer. I'm just...curious."

"Nothing wrong with being curious. I was wondering how long it would take you to ask that question. You actually held out a lot longer than I thought you would."

"..."

"The answer is_ yes_. I am in therapy, once a week for…almost a year."

"Do you like your therapist?"

"Yeah, actually. I do."

"Is it helping?"

"I thought it was, at first. But now…I honestly don't know."

"What happened?"

"I was a real dick at my last session...I mean more than usual."

"Why?"

"I've been a little...stressed out lately. We had a disagreement about something petty. Now...I don't know if I'm going back."

"Do you _want_ to go back?"

"Yeah. I'm just not sure if I'm welcome. And more than enough time has gone by."

"Enough time for what?"

"For him to realize that I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

"If he really does feel that way, which I seriously doubt, he's not a very good therapist."

"That's just it."

"What is?"

"He _is_ a good therapist, a great one even. I'm just a lousy patient."

"I doubt that you're nearly as bad as you think."

"..."

"Hello?"

"You really believe that, or are you just mocking me?"

"Why would I mock you?"

"You're telling me that I'm not as_ bad _as I think. But that kind of conflicts with some of your more recently expressed opinions."

"..."

"You were either lying then or you're lying now. Which is it?"

"I was frustrated and angry."

"At me?"

"No...just in general."

"..."

"And it was wrong for me to take that out on you."

"..."

"Look...I know that my opinion on the matter is fairly irrelevant. But I really think you should continue with your therapy. Especially after what happened the other night..."

"Patients die, Cuddy. It's not exactly a new experience for me."

"I'm not just talking about Hannah."

"..."

"I know you think you're fine, and maybe you are. I seem to remember there being a bathtub full of broken glass at your apartment, which definitely suggests there might be some issues that you've yet to deal with."

"It was a momentary lapse of reason. I'm over it."

"And what happened to the pills?"

"I flushed them down the toilet."

"Good."

"I guess I'll have to go to the hardware store, pick up something to patch up that hole."

"..."

"Or I suppose I could just put another mirror over it."

"House."

"What?"

"There's something I need to know. And I _completely_ respect your right to keep this information to yourself. I just...I know that if I'm forced to keep on wondering, it will drive me nuts."

"Okay."

"If I hadn't shown up when I did, would you have taken the two pills that were in your hand?"

"..."

"Too personal? You don't have to answer."

"No...I actually don't mind answering. It's just...not that simple."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...one would probably assume that the answer to that question would be simple. It _should_ be simple. It just...isn't."

"Could you maybe at least _try_ to explain?"

"Let's just say that the two pills in my hand were an appetizer of sorts."

"And the main course?"

"I had two full scripts, thirty-six tablets in each. So that's ten milligrams times thirty-six...three hundred and sixty milligrams."

"And you were going to take all of that?"

"..."

"Jesus, House...why?"

"Why do people _usually _swallow entire bottles of pills?"

"..."

"See that's the complicated part. It wasn't like I was trying to...it wasn't a choice. It was a lack of options. I couldn't find the exit. So I decided to try making one."

"..."

"And it wasn't any _one_ thing. I think…it was just a combination of things that have slowly built up over time."

"Are any of those things related to me?"

"..."

"I know, I _know_. I'm a narcissist. But I can't help asking."

"You're not a narcissist. Well you are...but not in this particular case. It's a reasonable question, and you have every right to ask. I just...don't think you're going to like the answer."

"I want the truth."

"The truth is subjective. It's been my observation...people who say that, rarely mean it. They think they want the truth, until they actually get it. And it's all downhill from there."

"Stop evading."

"I'm not evading. I'm just...I'm warning you up front. Things are going well between us. But that could all come to a screeching halt, if I choose to answer this question with complete and total honestly."

"I'm willing to take that chance."

"Yeah well...maybe I'm not. I don't exactly have anything else to fall back on."

"..."

"Look...I'll tell you, if that's what you really want. But you've got to promise me that you won't run away screaming."

"I promise I won't _run away, screaming_."

"The truth is...I find it extremely difficult to believe that you're completely unaware of all the things you've done to hurt me. Mostly because it implies that you're either lacking in self awareness or you genuinely don't think you've done anything wrong. And neither of those things bode well for the future of our relationship."

"..."

"I don't think there's any way that I could phrase this, that would make it easier for you to hear. So I'm just going to be blunt."

"Okay."

"I've never physically assaulted anyone of the opposite sex, and I have no intention of doing so at any point in the future."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"When you were bandaging my shoulder...after I was almost crushed to death under a pile of concrete and rubble, you said I was_ lucky _that it wasn't worse. Which I suppose was true. But at the time, I found it ironic that you had the nerve to scold me for my recklessness, when you were the one who insisted I go back down there in the first place."

"I didn't even think of it that way."

"I figured as much. Which is why I was content to let it go, that and I wasn't really in the mood for a fight. Until you made the assumption that my position regarding the amputation of Hannah's leg was somehow related to you, or your engagement to Lucas. You completely disregarded the possibility that I might have just been drawing from my own relevant experiences. My position was the result of something you didn't have, first hand knowledge of what it's like to be faced with such a decision. I can't imagine anyone immediately or voluntarily agreeing to the amputation of their own limb. So while I'm well aware of how ridiculous this probably sounds, especially coming out of my mouth. I knew exactly what it was the patient was going through."

"What does that have to do with assaulting someone of the opposite sex?"

"I'm getting to that."

"Okay."

"It scared me."

"What did?"

"The other stuff you said...I don't know. I was angry. I don't think I've been that angry in a long time. And for about ten seconds, I wanted nothing more than to knock you flat on your ass."

"..."

"You wanted the truth. Well there it is. It's not pretty, and I'm definitely not proud."

"You're saying you _wanted_ to hit me."

"Yes...and I wanted to keep _on_ hitting you, until you stopped talking, until you _couldn't _talk."

"..."

"Look...I'm not a violent person. I would never intentionally cause you physical pain."

"But you've obviously thought about it."

"Contrary to popular belief, I am actually capable of exercising self control. I've known you for almost twenty years. If by some chance I intended to slug you, regardless of the reason, I'd have done it by now."

"..."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you, at least not directly."

"So you were trying to hurt me _indirectly_?"

"I just...wanted you to feel what I was feeling."

"And what _were_ you feeling?"

"I already told you, you're not going to like the answer."

"Well you've told me this much. You might as well finish."

"Yeah."

"..."

"I think that...may have been the single most hateful thing anyone has said to me, in my entire life. And it's had some heavy competition."

"..."

"And the fact is, no matter what happens now, those things can't be unsaid. The effect they had, can't be undone. Now there's a part of me that will probably always doubt your sincerity, that will always wonder whether or not I can truly trust anything you say."

"When I showed up at your place last night, after what I said to you...I thought maybe you'd just tell me to go to hell."

"I was going to."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I knew it wouldn't change anything...because at that moment, it felt like my survival was completely dependent on how willing I was, to take you at face value."

"House...I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That I doubted whether or not you were capable of connecting with another human being. I was convinced that there was no goodness left inside you, that it had all been gobbled up by your pain and addiction."

"Not an unreasonable conclusion to draw."

"..."

"Now I have to ask _you_ something."

"Okay."

"I'd kind of like to know, before I invest anything else in this...relationship. Are you _really_ willing to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Are you willing to go into this...whatever the hell it is, knowing that it may be a long time before I feel like I can trust you?"

"It will probably bother me. But it's my own fault that you don't trust me. So it would be unfair of me to penalize you for my mistake."

"..."

"So...the funeral?"

"What about it?"

"Are you going or not?"

"Why do you care so much, whether or not I go?"

"Because I'd rather not go alone."

"So why don't you just _not_ go?"

"..."

"Can I think about it?"

"You have until Tuesday night."

"So I guess I won't be seeing you until tomorrow morning then."

"I'm going to try and get in around seven."

"Why so early?"

"Well...it's going to be a very busy morning. But I have an hour of free time from noon until one. If you want to meet me in my office, we can eat lunch."

"Sounds good."

"Do you need anything else before I hang up?"

"You could tell me a little more about your panties."

"I'll see you tomorrow, House."


	5. Chapter 5

_HOUSE'S FIRST SESSION AFTER BAGGAGE. Bear in mind that him glossing over what happened with Hannah is intentional. It will be addressed at a later time._

**I'm adding this author's note, just so there isn't any confusion. This story is about House's relationship with Cuddy. Other characters will be involved. But that's basically ALL it's going to be about. If you really hate that pairing, please stop reading right now. Don't keep reading and then pretend to be surprised when you realize the story isn't going to be what you were expecting. I've said it before -I don't like this pairing. But my goal here is to take a stab at portaying under what circumstances their relationship would work.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Good morning."

"..."

"I would have been here sooner, but I had to stop and admire the new artwork in the lobby."

"..."

"The Monet reproductions?"

"..."

"See _this_ is the part where you're supposed to talk...I say something and then _you_ say something."

"..."

"Okay...you're obviously pissed at me."

"No."

"What?"

"I'm not pissed."

"..."

"I'm just surprised to see you."

"..."

"I didn't know whether you'd show up or not. You didn't call to cancel."

"Yeah...sorry about that."

"After how last week's session ended…well this slot has been yours for almost a year. I figured I should leave it open for you, just in case."

"Thank you."

"To be honest, I was afraid that you wouldn't come back."

"Well here I am."

"Just in case it wasn't already apparent, I'm glad you're here."

"..."

"I _did_ think about calling you."

"And you didn't because?"

"I thought you needed some space...and I couldn't think of any way to phrase an apology that you wouldn't interpret as being horse pucky."

"Apology?"

"Yes."

"Apology for what?"

"For what happened at our last session."

"I don't understand."

"Don't understand what?"

"_I _walked out on _you_."

"So?"

"So...there's no reason to apologize. You were just doing your job, which unfortunately entails telling people things they may not want to hear. If anything, _I_ should be the one apologizing. You were trying to help me and I basically gave you the finger."

"I know how much you value people admitting that they're wrong, being willing to own up to their mistakes and accept blame. So I think I owe you that much."

"I still have no idea what you're talking about."

"You were right to walk away, Greg. You right to set that boundary."

"I just told you..."

"Would you please listen to me for a second?"

"Okay."

"I'm saying that you were right."

"..."

"You were right and I was wrong. And I'm pleased that you thought enough of yourself, that you were willing to communicate your dissatisfaction with my services."

"Why?"

"Because it means you've finally realized that you deserve better."

"..."

"It's not something that we go out of our way to advertise. But the majority of patients who are in talk therapy are of average or below average intelligence...and most of them have fairly simple issues. Treating them tends to be predictable and formulaic, a matter of finding the right meds and teaching them to communicate more effectively. Those who are more intelligent, especially those who are highly intelligent, tend to be a_ lot _more work. It's far more difficult to modify their behavior or alter their way of thinking."

"You're saying that I'm too smart for therapy?"

"I hate to put it that way, but yes."

"So I'm beyond help."

"Not at all. It just means that I'll have to work harder than I normally would, to get you better."

"And you're just now realizing this?"

"Yes...and I must also confess that I underestimated the severity of your issues. Or at least, I underestimated the degree to which they were interfering with your ability to function as a human being."

"_Objects in mirror are closer than they appear."_

"Yeah pretty much like that."

"..."

"As you pointed out last week, you've done everything that I've asked. What you neglected to mention was that you did it all with a positive attitude. I know how much you resent authority. I know how hard it is for you to trust in another human being...and I can appreciate how exceedingly difficult that must have been for you. The rate of your initial progress was so encouraging that I became...overconfident. In my haste, I made promises that I had no business making. And you suffered as a result."

"..."

"I also feel compelled to mention...you made a point of stating that you thought therapists were supposed to be _nurturing_."

"I did?"

"Yes...and I replied by telling you that was not the case."

"..."

"The thing is...I've grown so accustomed to your deflections, that I didn't take your comment seriously. It didn't dawn on me until after you left, what it was you were trying to say. It's possible that on some subconscious level, whether you were ready to confront it or not, you were longing to be nurtured. And I realized that the flippancy with which I regarded your comment may have actually done some harm."

"..."

"Don't worry. You don't have to admit to being hurt. I completely understand if you're not quite ready to open up to me again just yet."

"Well...it was sort of unrealistic."

"What was?"

"Expecting that twelve months would be sufficient time to undo fifty years worth of damage. I mean, I obviously have entitlement issues."

"Why would you say that?"

"I was suffering from the misconception that the world owes me some kind of compensation for all the things that have gone wrong in my life."

"And you no longer think it does?"

"I came to you because wanted to be happy, because I really believed that with your help, I could make that happen. But I wasn't prepared to work for it. I wanted my life to get better, but I didn't really want to make any sacrifices in the process. I wanted to change, but I didn't want to have to actually modify my behavior. And like so many other things in my life, I didn't give a hundred percent, because I figured I could get away with less. I just kind of went through the motions...like a rat in a maze, expecting to be automatically rewarded with a piece of cheese, as soon as I reached the finish line."

"And you've changed your mind?"

"I just realized that...none of us are entitled to anything. Maybe I just wasn't ready to try. I don't know."

"You're saying that you're ready now?"

"Yes."

"But why _right_ now? Why not before?"

"I didn't really have anything to live for before, aside from my job. And even _that_ wasn't terribly fulfilling."

"And now you do?"

"..."

"What's going on, Greg?"

"Nothing…why?"

"You've been sporting a shit eating grin since the moment you entered my office. I can only imagine the cause."

"I can't just smile?"

"You_ can_. But you generally don't. Your face has been fixed in a permanent scowl, for at least as long as I've known you. If you're smiling, there's got to be a reason."

"…"

"And now you're going to make me guess what it is."

"..."

"Let's see...there are only a handful of things that could have resulted in your giddiness."

"I'm not _giddy_."

"You're grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Greg. Whether you intended it or not, my curiosity is officially piqued. So spill."

"It's...complicated."

"So simplify it for me."

"I'm not really sure where to start."

"Maybe you can start by telling me about that giant scrape on your face."

"I actually thought I might save that for another day."

"Another bar fight?"

"..."

"Okay...just start with the very first thing that pops into your head...doesn't matter what it is. Even if you think it might be completely irrelevant to the discussion."

"I've had sex ten times in the last seventy-two hours."

"What?"

"You told me to say _the first thing _that popped into my head. That was it."

"Sorry...you're right. You just caught me off guard. Carry on."

"We're not talking about quickies either. I mean, it was the kind of sex that starts with foreplay and ends with a bowl of Wheaties and a copy of the New York Times."

"Well that explains the smile."

"..."

"Ten times in the last seventy-two hours is kind of a lot. Are you trying to break some kind of record?"

"I'm pretty sure Wilt Chamberlain has me beat."

"Dare I ask who the other party is?"

"I would have thought you'd have figured it out already."

"Why would you think that?"

"I mean, just taking into consideration the note on which we parted."

"_The note on which we parted?_ I can't recall what it was we discussed last. Refresh me."

"Relationships."

"Yes."

"You were going on and on about relationships, trying to figure out why they'd be on my mind. You thought maybe I responding to the fact that Wilson is moving on, that Cuddy is moving on..."

"You gave her the book."

"Yeah."

"I'm impressed."

"Why?"

"I didn't think you'd be willing to put yourself in such a vulnerable position."

"Yeah...me neither."

"But it sounds like it you don't regret it."

"I did at first."

"Why?"

"Because...results were not immediate."

"Can I assume that's what you were referring to, when you said that things were _complicated_?"

"More or less."

"So how did you go about presenting her with the book? Did you deliver it personally? Did you wrap it?"

"I told her it was an housewarming gift. I went to her office and just handed it over...and I didn't bother wrapping it."

"Why not?"

"Because I suck at wrapping things."

"Did she accept the gift?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's good. So what happened once you'd given her the book?"

"We...had a brief, but very awkward conversation. A few hours later, she informed me that she and Lucas had become engaged."

"When did they do that?"

"Supposedly the day before."

"Was she wearing a ring?"

"No...which as a sucker for details, I couldn't help noticing. So naturally I asked her about it."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing at first. Then she seemed defensive, irritable. _Then_ she tossed out some random, but perfectly plausible explanations for why she might not be wearing her ring."

"Were any of them true?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because later that day, she admitted that they weren't. Lucas proposed to her. But she never said _yes_. She said she'd take a week to think about it. She apparently wore the ring for two days, at which point she decided that she not only didn't want to marry him, but she wanted to end the relationship altogether."

"Wait...didn't they just purchase a home together?"

"_She _purchased it. From what I understand, he was just going to live there and pay half of the mortgage and utilities."

"And did she provide you with an explanation for that?"

"For what?"

"For why she felt compelled to break things off with Lucas."

"Uh...yeah. But it's going to sound far fetched."

"What was it?"

"She basically said that whenever they were together, she was thinking of me."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"That's pretty much what every person on the planet wants to hear."

"No kidding."

"But I'm confused as to why you would consider it to be far fetched?"

"Because I've never been first."

"What do you mean?"

"In my life...my mother always put my father first. My father and Stacy both put their careers first. Wilson put...whoever he happened to be with at the time first. People don't go out of their way to choose me for anything, unless doing so will benefit them directly. They certainly don't choose me when there's a better option lingering near by. And near as I can tell, there has always been a better option lingering nearby."

"So is this an actual relationship, or is it just casual sex?"

"I don't know yet."

"You haven't discussed it at all?"

"Nope."

"Don't you think you should?"

"I think it would kill the mood."

"Perhaps you're afraid to ask, because you know it's possible that might not get the answer you're hoping for."

"I'm not _hoping_ for anything."

"The reason I say that is because asserting your needs and communicating your feelings are definitely not among your strong points."

"..."

"So how did it start?"

"How does _anything _start?"

"You tell me."

"We kissed."

"Why?"

"It's...complicated."

"Did you kiss her or did she kiss you?"

"It was mutual."

"Let's say you _had_ to pick one of you, that it couldn't be both. Who would you say was the more responsible party?"

"Me, I guess."

"But she kissed back."

"Yes."

"And how did she respond to being kissed?"

"Like she'd been expecting it."

"You mean since that morning?"

"I mean since the day we met."

"Did you have sex?"

"Twice that night and once again in the morning."

"And you didn't experience any...technical difficulties?"

"I'm going to assume that what you're actually asking is whether or not I was able to sustain an erection long enough to do anything with it."

"I realize it's deeply personal. But I think it's a reasonable question, given your medical history."

"There were no technical difficulties, as far as I could tell. But it's been a while since I was in an intimate relationship. So it didn't last nearly as long as I'd have liked."

"I'm sure you know this already. But when you have intercourse, after a long period of time without any real sexual activity, there's almost going to be premature ejaculation. Some men have found that it actually helps to...masturbate on a regular basis."

"Yeah well...I hadn't felt much like doing that lately."

"Do you think she was dissatisfied with your...performance?"

"Apparently not, or she wouldn't have requested an encore."

"And was it as good for her as it was for you?"

"I have no way of knowing that."

"Speculate."

"I'm thinking it was better for her."

"Why?"

"Well for one thing, she's a screamer. Which in _my_ apartment is fine...since all of my neighbors are over the age of seventy and deaf. Secondly, she's not handicapped and doesn't suffer from chronic pain. And thirdly, women can have multiple orgasms."

"_Did_ she have multiple orgasms?"

"Do you really need to know that?"

"No. I'm just being nosy."

"She didn't actually say...but just based on the degree of her enthusiasm, I'd have to say yes."

"Do you find sex to be difficult, because of your disability?"

"I really wouldn't know."

"Wait...why wouldn't you know?"

"Things have been _all quiet on the western front_."

"So you haven't seen that much action lately."

"Don't write this down."

"Don't write _what_ down?"

"I just mean, what I'm about to tell you is off the record. It doesn't leave this room."

"Okay."

"I've only had sex a couple times...since the infarction."

"That was twelve years ago."

"..."

"But you_ have _had have sex, right?"

"Yes...and it _has_ rained in Death Valley. But I wouldn't want to live there the rest of the year."

"Would you say that your disability limits your options?"

"As far as what?"

"Let's say...as far as the positions you can utilize."

"..."

"This is making you uncomfortable."

"No. I just...never actually talked to anyone about it before, at least not at length."

"Why not?"

"I could not even fathom how one would go about initiating such a conversation."

"Would you like to have a relationship? I mean a real relationship and not one based exclusively on sexual attraction."

"A few months ago, I'd have probably said _no_."

"But now the answer is _yes_?"

"..."

"Why?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

"And because you _don't know_, because it doesn't make any sense, you're afraid to trust it."

"I keep waiting for the punch line."

"Why?"

"Because there's _always_ a punch line."

"But what if there isn't?"

"There is."

"..."

"I don't understand how you can you become excited about seeing someone you've worked with practically every day for the last twelve years. I mean, I always thought she was physically attractive. But the truth is...I only tended to be interested in her when she was actively interested in someone else. During that time, I never had any genuine desire to pursue her."

"You just didn't want anyone _else_ pursuing her."

"I can't figure out what's changed. I can't figure out what the hell it is about me that's so different."

"Do you _really_ need to know that?"

"It would be nice."

"But do you _need _to know that? Will knowing that change anything?"

"..."

"Would you rather enjoy this or analyze it to death?"

"See...for me those two things tend to be redundant."

"..."

"And you're a therapist. If people didn't want to analyze things to death, you'd be out of a job."

"True. But I think that in regards to this particular issue, your need to dissect it is merely intended to be a distraction."

"A distraction from what?"

"Whatever it is that you need to be distracted from."

"..."

"Didn't you mention dating Dr. Cuddy before, at some point? Correct me if I'm wrong."

"We didn't really _date_."

"Then what_ did_ you do?"

"Met her at a party. We danced. We ended up in an unoccupied bedroom. We talked for a while."

"How long is a while?"

"Two or three hours."

"What did you talk about?"

"Blood."

"Seriously?"

"That same year, these medical researchers in Texas had gotten a grant from the government. Their goal was to create a human blood substitute, by chemically modifying hemoglobin."

"What would be the benefit of that, aside from the obvious?"

"Compatibility with all existing blood types...and an extended shelf life. Ordinarily with donated blood, even when all precautions have been taken and it was properly stored, it lasts about five or six weeks. If it's not used during that time, it has to be discarded."

"Does a lot of it go to waste?"

"I'm sure it does."

"So you were in the bedroom, talking about blood. Then what?"

"We made out for a while, talked some more...eventually did the nasty and went on about our business."

"Did you wear a condom?"

"Of course."

"So you'd _just_ met her and you had sex."

"..."

"Did you get the impression that she'd done it before?"

"What do you mean?"

"Casual sex with a total stranger."

"She said she hadn't."

"What about you? Was that something that you did often?"

"It was the first time I'd ever done anything remotely like that...and it was also the last."

"Why _did_ you do it?"

"I was horny. She was sexy. Seemed convenient. Did I mention that I was horny?"

"I find that to be a strange explanation, based on what you just told me."

"Why?"

"Let's assume for a moment that, theoretically speaking and given your current age, you've been sexually active for about thirty-five years."

"More like thirty-two. But okay. What's your point?"

"You're telling me that during the past thirty-two years, that was your _only_ one night stand."

"Technically speaking."

"So that means that there must have been something about this woman that separated her from other females you may have dated or socialized with."

"..."

"What was it?"

"There are a lot of sexy people in the world. There are a lot of smart people in the world. But over the years I've learned that people who are both sexy and smart are generally a little harder to come by."

"So you were attracted to her intelligence?"

"Among other things."

"What other things?"

"This is going to sound nuts. I don't believe in ESP or horoscopes or any of that crap. I never have. But there's this _vibe_ that I get from damn near everyone...this sense of disapproval and judgment. There's this imaginary boundary between us, a separation that can never be overcome."

"..."

"I tend to act like an ass when I'm with an attractive woman."

"Most men do."

"I was trying to bait her, by saying...highly inappropriate things."

"And?"

"She refused to react."

"..."

"There was no vibe, no sense of disapproval or judgment. And at the time, I remember thinking..._this must be what it's like to be normal_."

"Did you see her at all, after that? Prior to the point at which you started working for her, I mean."

"I saw her around campus. She would smile and kind of wave. But that's as far as it went. I was a fourth year resident and she was an undergrad. So it's not like we had too many opportunities to bump into one another."

"Did she ever call you?"

"I don't think she even had my number."

"Did you consider asking her out again?"

"Considered it. Didn't actually go through with it."

"Why not?"

"Tracking her down would have been a chore, the kind I prefer to avoid, unless success is guaranteed."

"Forgive my invasiveness...and you don't have to answer this. But do you know how many sexual partners she's had?"

"You mean during her entire lifetime or just recently?"

"Lifetime."

"Nope...I have no idea and that's exactly how I'd like to keep it."

"That could be handy information to have, if you're planning on being physically involved."

"We already ran labs...STI, VDRL and HIV."

"On her?"

"On both of us. And we're clean. Therefore, no reason to go digging up any dirt from our past."

"So you're choosing to remain ignorant to certain things, because you think that possessing that knowledge might actually hurt your relationship."

"I _know_ it will."

"I'm definitely impressed by the way you're handling this. But I'm also intrigued."

"By what?"

"By the fact that you chose to make out, as opposed to talking, especially when there was so much going on between you that needed to be discussed."

"..."

"Why do you think you made that particular decision?"

"Because...I'm confident about my skills as a kisser._ Talking _on the other hand...I know that if I'd spoken, I'd have ended up saying something stupid."

"But it's been several days since then. Have you said or done anything stupid during that time?"

"Not so far. But it's only a matter of time."

"So you view you saying or doing something that's _stupid_ as an inevitability?"

"Yes."

"And yet...you're actually planning to continue with this, whatever this is."

"For now."

"Can I ask what your long term plan is?"

"In regards to what?"

"Therapy, for one thing."

"..."

"Now that you're in a relationship, are you considering discontinuing talk therapy?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Because that's what most people do. They assume that having found someone, all of their issues will magically resolve themselves."

"I'm not discontinuing talk therapy, at least not for a while."

"Why not?"

"Do you _want_ me to leave?"

"No. I actually think you're making the right choice. But that doesn't mean I'm not interested in how you reached that particular decision."

"I want this to work."

"..."

"I mean...I seriously doubt that it will. In fact, I'm almost positive that it won't. But there's anyone who can help me find a way to _not_ fuck this up, it would be you. Which means I'm going to be needing you. So I guess it's _my _turn to ask you...are you prepared to fulfill that role? Because if not, I need to know _right_ now."

"I'm prepared to fill that role...just as long as you realize that there are limitations to what I can do. And by that I mean...I don't want to mislead you in any way. I don't want to inadvertently lead you down any paths that might end in disappointment. Because even if you do everything right, you're dealing with something that is outside your locus of control."

"..."

"And I have to say...I'm flattered that you think I possess the ability to help you make this relationship work. I'm flattered that you would even trust me that much."

"..."

"This is a huge leap of faith this is for you, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"..."

"Please don't make me regret it."


	6. Chapter 6

__

__

House and Cuddy have successfully kept their relationship a secret for two months. It takes Wilson that long to even notice that something has changed.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"That nurse was checking you out."

"Huh? What nurse?"

"The one that just left your office thirty seconds ago? Kind of hard to miss her, what with the cleavage spilling out of her shirt."

"She wasn't checking me out. She was bringing me a piece of paperwork that I forgot to sign."

"Which she came all the way up here to do."

"So?"

"There are two doctors working in the clinic right now. She could just as easily have gotten it from one of them."

"But it was _my _patient's file."

"Since when has that ever mattered to you? It was routine lab work. Any doctor in the hospital can sign off on that."

"The doctors in the clinic were probably too busy."

"I just came from there. The waiting room is empty."

"She's probably new. She was being…diligent."

"She's not new. She was hired last summer."

"That's right. I forgot. You keep tabs on all the females within a five mile radius. Have you marked her with your scent yet? You better get to it, before someone else does."

"..."

"And she's like twenty-four years old, tops. I'm probably older than her father, for God's sake."

"Okay…let's assume for the moment that's true. What about that new cashier in the cafeteria?"

"I didn't even know there _was_ a new cashier in the cafeteria."

"Young, attractive Hispanic girl...wears giant silver hoop earrings."

"You mean that emo chick with the black lipstick?"

"That's the one."

"What about her?"

"When you were in line the other day, all you were buying was a bagel. You didn't even want it toasted or anything. But she screwed up your transaction twice, because she kept punching the wrong buttons."

"Which proves what, exactly?"

"That she was distracted."

"You mean by _me_?"

"..."

"You _seriously_ need a hobby."

"You haven't noticed a different vibe from the women around here, since you started sporting the whole _Miami Vice _look?"

"I shaved and I'm wearing a tie. In what alternate universe does that make me Don Johnson?"

"I guess that depends on why you're doing it."

"..."

"So why _are_ you doing it?"

"Maybe I was just tired of looking like a slob."

"It's never bothered you before."

"True."

"..."

"You know...over the years I've observed a lot of human behavior. And among the many lessons I have learned is that when you treat people like crap, they tend to treat _you_ like crap."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"People are just being more polite to me, because I'm being more polite to them. It doesn't take a genius to see the cause and effect there. It's hardly worth getting all excited about."

"I'm not _excited_. And this has _nothing_ to do with politeness."

"If you say so."

"What about your patient's sister?"

"Which patient?"

"The diabetic hockey player."

"What about her?"

"When she came to visit her brother, she only stayed with him for five minutes. Foreman said she then proceeded to engage in an hour long conversation with you about difference between NHL and NCAA playoff rules and regulations."

"Your point being?"

"Well for one thing…very few women give a crap about hockey, let alone its rules and regulations."

"Now you're just being sexist."

"Am I?"

"She and her brother were from Montreal."

"So?"

"So everyone knows that you're not allowed to live there, unless you like hockey. It's one of their requirements for citizenship."

"..."

"And call me crazy, but I'm guessing that her interest in the sport may have been related to the fact that her brother played four years in the minors and was in the process of signing a contract with the Canadiens."

"Taub said that she left her _home_ number with you and asked you to please call her with any updates on her on her brother's condition."

"The man was in a coma and she wanted us to let her know if and when he wakes up. Yeah...that's some serious stalker potential right there. I should probably notify the authorities before her concern spreads to any other patients."

"She could just as easily given her number to Chase or Foreman or Taub."

"So what?"

"So she _chose_ to give it to you."

"If she wrote it on her panties and _then_ gave it to me, I'd say you might be on to something."

"..."

"And if there were any portion of our conversation that I'd intended to remain private, I probably wouldn't have had it in the middle of the second floor lobby."

"So you don't think there's any connection whatsoever between your new look and the fact that all the women you come into contact with appear to be fawning over you?"

"_Fawning_?"

"Yes."

"Who the hell uses that word? Are we in a Jane Austen novel?"

"Well what word would _you_ use to describe it?"

"I wouldn't. Because there's nothing to describe."

"What's going on, House? I know you. You don't do anything without a reason. Sometimes it's a _stupid_ reason. But still. There's always a reason."

"Why do you even care?"

"What?"

"I ironed my shirt, Wilson. There's no need to alert the media."

"You're wearing cologne."

"I have been known to do that sometimes."

"Who are you all dressed up for?"

"Were you oxygen deprived at some point during your childhood, or was it a more recent thing?"

"And where were you last night?"

"Ah...finally getting bored with Sam, are we? Well that didn't take long."

"I'm not _bored_ with her."

"If you say so."

"I called you around ten and you didn't pick up."

"Maybe I was sleeping."

"Or maybe you just weren't home."

"I wouldn't rule that out entirely."

"So where were you?"

"In a quaint, little berg I like to call _none of your goddamn business, you nosy bastard_."

"..."

"They're thinking about changing the name to something shorter. But I actually think it's kind of catchy. It really rolls off the tongue..."

"You know I'm going to figure this out eventually, right?"

"I don't doubt it. That doesn't mean I'm obligated to mash it up, tie a bib around your neck and spoon feed it to you."

"So you _are_ hiding something."

"The word _hiding_ implies a certain degree of entitlement on your part."

"Entitlement?"

"For some reason, you seem to believe that you're entitled to know about whatever it is that might be going on with me."

"So?"

"So...you're not."

"..."

"I wasn't planning to come right out and tell you this, mostly because I couldn't think of any way to phrase it that wouldn't make me sound like a total dick. Of course, I also assumed that you'd be so wrapped up in your relationship with Sam that it wouldn't even be necessary to tell you at all."

"Tell me what?"

"I'm honestly not sure how to say this, because I've never actually been in this position before."

"What position is that?"

"I've...decided that, for now at least, it would be in my best interest to avoid confiding in you."

"Confiding in me about what?"

"_Anything."_

"I...don't even know how to respond to that."

"That's okay. I wasn't expecting a response. I was just letting you know."

"Are you ending our relationship?"

"No."

"It kind of sounds like you are."

"I'm not _ending _our relationship, Wilson. I'm just establishing some boundaries, and implementing that all important social contract that we've been sorely lacking for the past fifteen years."

"..."

"Face it, we should have done this a long time ago. But We didn't. So here we are."

"..."

"And if you'd like to register any complaints, regarding my decision, feel free to call my shrink. It was his idea."

"You're punishing me."

"Punishing you for what?"

"You're still upset with me for hooking up with Sam and kicking you out of the loft."

"I love how everything that happens in my life is somehow about you."

"You're saying that you're not upset?"

"Do I _look _upset?"

"No."

"Okay then."

"So let me get this straight. You're not upset about me dating Sam or kicking you out of the loft. You may have been at first. But now you're over it."

"Correct."

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't just _get over _things. You obsess about them. You let them fester. You seek and destroy. The only logical explanation is that you're too preoccupied to even give a crap...and there are only a handful of things that could distract you to that extent."

"Like what?"

"You either won big time at the OTB, solved a particularly difficult case, successfully exacted revenge on someone you hate, started using heroin, or you found a hooker who was willing to perform barrier free oral sex."

"Yes, those are definitely _all _the possibilities."

"And I almost forgot. You were whistling _Come On, Get Happy _on the elevator this morning, which I find particularly amusing after you dared to mock my ownership of _Meet Me in Saint Louis_."

"In case you were unaware…being a fan of Judy Garland is actually included among the top ten diagnostic criteria for homosexuality in American males…followed shortly by Barbara Streisand and Engelbert Humperdinck...and I'm actually partial to the Ella Fitzgerald recording."

"..."

"If I'd won big at the OTB, I wouldn't be sitting here right now. I'd be kicking it in Hef's Jacuzzi, smoking a Cuban cigar, surrounded by _Sports Illustrated _bathing suit models."

"What about revenge?"

"What about it?"

"Anyone with whom you'd like to get even?"

"I'm getting even right now."

"What?"

"Everyone has _someone_ who they want to get even with."

"Can I assume that the term _everyone_ applies to you as well?"

"Of course. That's what_ everyone _means."

"..."

But I've been doing a lot of reflecting recently...I've come to the conclusion that revenge is one of those things that are only attractive in theory. It might _seem_ like a great idea at the moment. But it almost always ends up being a waste of both time and energy."

"And what about the heroin?"

"I haven't had any opiates in my system since last May, let alone intravenous ones."

"..."

"But if you have any doubts...I get my blood drawn weekly. You have my permission to pull the lab reports from my file. And if you want, you're more than welcome to examine me for track marks."

"You're submitting to weekly drug testing?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's necessary."

"Cuddy's making you?"

"No."

"The licensing board is making you?"

"No."

"Then why is it necessary?"

"Because I've finally come to terms with the fact that I simply lack the ability to hold myself accountable."

"..."

"So what does that leave us with?"

"Solving a particularly difficult case or having sex with a hooker."

"Well you already know that my team doesn't have a case."

"I do? Why would you assume that?"

"Because you confronted each of them separately, about an hour ago."

"..."

"Our most recent case was most definitely not _difficult_. Neither were the two before that, now that I think about it."

"..."

"Splitting them up was clever though...I approve of the whole divide and conquer approach. But for future reference, they tell me everything, and I do mean _everything._ I'm pretty sure they still think I'm an asshole. But at least they understand the concept of loyalty."

"Which one of them told you?"

"All three."

"..."

"I guess that just leaves sex with a hooker."

"Right...anything to say about that one?"

"Nope."

"..."

"But just for argument's sake, let's assume that your initial suspicion was correct."

"What suspicion?"

"That I _am_ dressed this way for a reason and that reason is probably another person."

"..."

"Now I'm ordinarily a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy...and change is difficult for me. But what I happen to be wearing at the moment actually constitutes a fairly _drastic _change for me, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes."

"You were one hundred percent correct when you made the observation that I don't do _anything_ without a reason."

"Okay."

"But do you honestly think that reason is a hooker?"

"..."

"Look...we both know how thrilled I would ordinarily be, to entertain your pointless speculation. But I happen to have work to do."

"_You_ have work?"

"I'm over a month behind on my dictations and my discharge summaries, and half these people need follow-up calls."

"_You're_ making follow-up calls?"

"Cameron used to take care of all that crap. When she left, Thirteen took over. But she left too. So here I am."

"Why don't you just ask one of your other fellows to do it?"

"Yeah...I was thinking about that."

"And?"

"Taking into consideration the past few years...with the amount of energy I've spent manipulating my employees into doing my job for me, I could have just performed all of those tasks myself, possibly even faster and more efficiently."

"..."

"I mean...there's a difference between delegating authority and getting people to do your dirty work. I _am_ getting paid. So I should probably be doing something productive_."_

"..."

"Do you have anymore questions before I boot you out of my office, so I can finish this work?"

"I have lots of questions."

"Why don't you just narrow it down to one, for now."

"Okay...you've admitted that there _is_ an explanation for the way you're dressed right now."

"Yes."

"Can I assume that you have no intention of telling me what's_ really _going on?"

"Technically I _have _told you what's really going on. What I'm not going to tell you is the _who,_ _why, _and_ how."_

"..."

"Besides that...you said you'd figure it out eventually, right?"

"Right."

"So...go figure it out."


	7. Chapter 7

_Several hours later (imagine that being said with a terrible French accent, like the announcer from Spongebob Squarepants)_

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Wow...back already?"

"Yes."

"It's only been two hours and seven minutes. I didn't think I'd even be seeing you again until at least Wednesday."

"..."

"So are you going to dazzle me with your wealth of knowledge and profound insight into the human psyche?"

"Maybe."

"Well then, by all means, commence with the dazzling."

"We've established that in order to have recovered so quickly from me asking you to move out of the loft, you must have been preoccupied with something else."

"I think it was just you who established that. But okay."

"Given what I know about you, of all the possible sources of your current distraction, the two most likely candidates are sex and drugs."

"..."

"But you're submitting to weekly blood tests."

"Which you no doubt went to the trouble to confirm."

"And even if you weren't, you're way too coherent to be stoned."

"If you say so."

"So that just leaves sex."

"Damn."

"What?"

"I thought for sure you'd head straight for the heroin theory. When you're making baseless assumptions about me, it's almost always the first thing on your list."

"Taking into consideration your current disposition and the nature of the modifications you've made to your behavior and appearance, I think it's safe to say that whatever it is that's distracting you, you're enjoying it."

"..."

"I've come to the conclusion that if the source of your distraction really _is_ a relationship with another person, that relationship is probably more than just a casual one."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Well...because you said so yourself. You've made some drastic changes. And I doubt you would do so for someone who was little more than an acquaintance."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Well that certainly is a plausible theory."

"Which part?"

"_All _of it."

"..."

"Although I'm still finding it hard to believe that you had to struggle so much to figure it out."

"What do you mean?"

"Clearly you haven't been paying very close attention, or you would have reached that conclusion a whole lot sooner."

"..."

"Of course it's only fair to acknowledge that you've been a little distracted yourself."

"Wait...so you really _are..."_

"Getting laid?"

"Yeah."

"It's hard to imagine, I know. Still having trouble believing it myself."

"Huh."

"..."

"So...I guess the most appropriate question to ask would be _who is she_?"

"Oh, shame on you."

"For what?"

"You shouldn't make assumptions like that."

"I haven't made any assumptions."

"You're assuming that the person in question is a _she._"

"What are you saying...you're dating a man?"

"No...I'm saying you shouldn't make assumptions."

"Are you dating a guy or not?"

"No."

"..."

"But naturally, that hasn't stopped me from perpetuating the rumor that she _used_ to be a man."

"..."

"Oh, you're so cute when you're speechless. Just like a little chipmunk. Hold that pose. I'm going to get my camera."

"You told me it was just that one night."

"I lied."

"You said it was _sympathy sex_."

"It probably was."

"And the sex that followed?"

"Apparently wasn't."

"Why the hell would you lie about something like that?"

"So I wouldn't have to engage in annoying conversations like this one."

"Yeah...but that's usually the kind of thing you'd go out of your way to rub in my face."

"What can I say? Your face was busy."

"..."

"Hey...it was bound to catch up with us eventually."

"What was?"

"All the innuendos and subtext. When you carry on like that, for an extended period of time, ultimately one of two things will happen. Technically three. You either end up _doing it _or you kill each other...or some combination of the two."

"I would have put my money on the second one."

"Me too."

"Do you consider yourselves to be a couple? I mean, what are you? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"We haven't decided yet."

"..."

"So you can put away your label maker."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since the end of May."

"Wait...you've been dating Cuddy for eight weeks."

"Nine actually."

"..."

"Although I'm not sure that _dating_ is really the appropriate term."

"But you've been sleeping with her, right?"

"..."

"How the hell did you manage to hide this from me?"

"You made it pretty easy."

"How?"

"I wasn't even _trying_ to hide it from you, and it still took you over two months to notice."

"I don't understand how you can possibly blame me for _your_ inability to bring something to my attention."

"First of all, I'm not blaming anyone for anything...and second, I didn't realize I was _supposed_ to be bringing anything to your attention."

"I'm not saying you're _supposed_ to. I'm saying...it would be nice."

"Nice, but not necessary."

"Since when the hell do you care about what's necessary?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

"What I'm trying to say is...you shouldn't assume that I'm aware of something, unless you have personally seen to it that I was informed."

"I'll be sure and keep that in mind...you know, in case there's ever anything in my life that I care to make you aware of."

"..."

"Say you're out driving around and you approach an intersection."

"God...not this again."

"Oh, humor me."

"Fine...I'm out driving around and I approach an intersection."

"And as you're doing so, something distracts you."

"Okay."

"What is it?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"There's no wrong answer. Just name something that might distract you while you're driving."

"Maybe I'm adjusting my stereo?"

"Perfect. So you're driving around and as you're approaching an intersection, you choose_ that _very moment to adjust your stereo."

"Okay."

"But because you're not paying close enough attention, you don't notice that the light is actually red. So you drive right through it."

"Where are you going with this?"

"That depends on how you answer my next question."

"And what's the question?"

"Whose fault is it that you ran the red light?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, who is morally and legally responsible for the fact that you ran through a red light?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"No. I really am looking for the most obvious, most logical response."

"Okay..._I'd _be responsible."

"Why?"

"Because I was the one who was driving."

"Excellent."

"What did you _think_ I was going to say?"

"Based on your attitude and your aversion to taking personal responsibility for...pretty much anything, I would have expected you to say that it was the light's fault, for being red."

"..."

"The problem with that is...the red light was exactly where it was supposed to be, doing exactly what it was supposed to do. Therefore it cannot not be held responsible for your lack of observational skills."

"I would not _blame_ the light for being red. That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"You blaming me for your lack of interest in my life is only slightly less ridiculous."

"So this thing with Cuddy...is it serious?"

"As opposed to what?"

"As opposed to casual and meaningless."

"I think so."

"Are you planning to live together?"

"Don't know."

"You mean, you haven't discussed it?"

"Remember what I said before, about _not_ confiding in you?"

"Right."

"..."

"She has a kid."

"So?"

"So you're okay with dating someone who has a kid?"

"It doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would."

"..."

"It actually doesn't bother me at all. The kid's pretty low key, compared to the average eighteen month old. She doesn't even cry all that much."

"Uh huh."

"..."

"Sorry...I'm just having trouble picturing it."

"Picturing what?"

"You, choosing to be in the same room with a baby."

"..."

"I'm curious about these so called _boundaries_ of yours."

"What about them?"

"Can we still do things together?"

"I'm assuming you mean hypothetically."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Because we haven't hung out in over in three months."

"..."

"Although I can't help finding it amusing."

"Finding what amusing?"

"That by the time you finally get around to showing some interest in me, I'm unavailable."

"..."

"Yes, Wilson. We can still _do things together_."

"Great."

"..."

"Do you want to get something to eat?"

"You mean right this second?"

"Yes."

"I just ate lunch an hour ago...and I'm still not done with this paperwork."

"Okay...well how about dinner?"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah."

"I...think I'm going to have to take a rain check."

"Why?"

"Because I already have plans."

"Plans to do what? I just spoke with Cuddy five minutes ago. She said she's going to be in an emergency meeting with the ethics committee until ten o'clock."

"I know. That's why I'm busy."

"Why would Cuddy being in a board meeting mean that _you're_ busy?"

"I'm leaving at four-thirty today."

"To do what?"

"To relieve the nanny."

"You're not serious."

"…"

"You're _serious?"_

"You can come over, if you want. I'm sure Cuddy wouldn't mind. I'll be wrapping up this paperwork and folding laundry."

"..."

"I'm sure it will be very exciting. And Rachel will be in her high chair, mutilating her dinner, until it's been broken down by her salivary enzymes and transformed into a completely unrecognizable mush."

"..."

"It's actually a rather fascinating process."

"So you'd rather watch a toddler play with her food than hang out with me."

"Well...she doesn't spend nearly as much time proselytizing."

"..."

"Of course her vocabulary is sort of limited."

"…"

"She does drool way more than you do, though. But I think that's only because she's teething."

"There's no way this is noble."

"Why not?"

"Uh…because you're you."

"Okay."

"What do you mean, _okay_?"

"I mean okay. Thanks for sharing your opinion."

"…"

"It's contrived, presumptuous and completely unfounded. But still…I'm so glad that you felt comfortable enough to share it with me."

"So that's it?"

"Is _what_ it?"

"You're not going to fight me on this."

"There's no need."

"..."

"It's not going to change what you think and it's definitely not going to change how I feel. So why bother arguing about it?"

"You expect me to believe that you _enjoy_ babysitting? Are you sure you're not taking an interest in this kid's life, just so you can get laid?"

"I'm not actually. But would that really be so terrible?"

"..."

"I know why I'm doing what I'm doing, Wilson. I'm pretty sure Cuddy knows why I'm doing what I'm doing. I'm sorry to have to tell you this. But at this point in my life, whether or not you're willing to believe my actions are noble has become completely irrelevant to me."

"..."

"I know you know that I'm in therapy, which means I've been discussing my issues at length with someone who isn't you. I also know that the closer I get to being mentally healthy, the less interested in my life you become."

"..."

"Bottom line...whether or not you're still interested in me or my life in any way has become irrelevant to me."

"..."

"The odd thing is...I always thought I'd be the one."

"The one who what?"

"Pushed our friendship past its breaking point."

"What are you saying?"

"That you can only blow someone off so many times, before it breeds contempt."

"And that's what this is, contempt?"

"Cuddy works enough as it is. I don't think she even understands the concept of _free time_ or relaxation. She already feels guilty about leaving the kid with a sitter for eight to ten hours a day. She probably won't be home until after midnight. There's no need to pay the nanny double time to do something I could do for free. And this way…there's one less thing for her to stress about."

"And let me guess. If she's stressed out, you don't get laid."

"If that's how you want to look at it."

"How do_ you _look at it?"

"If I were _that _desperate for release, I'd take fifteen to twenty minutes and masturbate. I wouldn't voluntarily devote eight hours to doing something that I supposedly despise."

"..."

"And as someone who has been married three times, I find it hard to believe that the notion of compromise is foreign to you. Of course you've also been divorced three times. So I could be wrong."

"So you're saying that Cuddy would prefer that you be the one taking care of her child, as opposed to a woman she hired, who was trained specifically for that purpose?"

"Apparently."

"..."

"I _am_ curious about something, though."

"What?"

"Why would you assume that sex was the basis of our relationship?"

"You mean it's not?"

"I'm not really sure yet. I'm just curious as to what might have led you to make such an observation."

"I...don't know."

"Huh."

"..."

"See...I get what you're trying to do, Wilson. I even understand _exactly_ why you're doing it. And you're certainly entitled to your opinions. But try as you might, I refuse to allow you to taint this with your speculation."

"Excuse me? Who the hell am I talking to?"

"If you have some deeper, Freudian theory about my relationship with Cuddy, I don't want to hear about it. I don't want to know what you think it means, or why you think it's happening, or how long you think it's going to last, before I find some way to screw it up."

"…"

"And besides that, I'm not doing anything to you that you haven't done to me a hundred times before."

"What does that mean?"

"It's no fun being the third wheel, is it?"

"_That's_ why you're doing this?"

"Yes. I staged a fake romantic relationship with my boss, entirely for the purposes of exacting revenge. Thank God she wasn't busy, or I'd have had to hire someone."

"Like you haven't done _that _before."

"I was ticked off when you kicked me out, Wilson. But in hindsight...I should probably be thanking you."

"Why?"

"Because if you hadn't, I would never have found out the truth."

"What truth?"

"That apparently...I _can_ form a long-term connection with someone other than you."

"..."

"I doubt you were doing so consciously. In fact, I'm sure you weren't. But all these years you've been dangling it over my head."

"Dangling _what_ over your head?"

"The constant reminder that I could become expendable at any given moment. You made sure I knew that you could walk away from me, whenever the hell you wanted, and not look back. And because of that, you maintained total control over our relationship."

"..."

"The tables have turned. That's all. I didn't plan it and it's not something I'm doing on purpose. But for the moment anyway, you appear to have become...extraneous."

"..."

"I feel good right now, Wilson...better than I've felt in a long time."

"I'm glad, House. I'm glad."

"I'm sure you are...or at least, I'm sure that you believe you are."

"..."

"But to be perfectly honest...I'm reluctant to socialize with you, at this point."

"Why?"

"Because frankly...I already know that you're going to drag me down."

"Drag you down _how_?"

"Friends are supposed to be supportive, right?"

"Theoretically speaking."

"But being around them should make you feel better about yourself, not worse."

"Wait a minute...you're saying that spending time with me makes you feel worse?"

"Generally, yes."

"..."

"But that wasn't _always _the case. Probably just...the last year or two."

"..."

"Or maybe a little closer to five."

"..."

"Or ten, now that I think about it."

"..."

"But anyway...I spent almost thirty years of my life deliberately driving people away, going home to an empty apartment, having nowhere to go on holidays, eating take-out, and grocery shopping for one."

"..."

"So now that I have the chance, maybe I just want to spend time with the people who have become, for the moment anyway...my family."

"Your_ family_? You think of Rachel as your _family_?"

"Weren't you the one who made the observation that the people with whom we spend the majority of our time are technically are family?"

"Yes...and I believe you _mocked_ that observation."

"..."

"Weren't you the one who mocked Cuddy for even considering adoption?"

"Yes."

"That's it? That's your brilliant retort?"

"What do you _want_ me to say? It's not like I can deny it."

"..."

"I mean, why even bother pointing out such a thing? Just because you're completely oblivious to your own hypocrisies, doesn't mean everyone else is."

"..."

"What the hell do you want from me, Wilson? Why are we even having this conversation?"

"I'm worried about you."

"Why?"

"You're not acting like yourself."

"Are you sure?"

"What do you mean, am I _sure_?"

"I mean...are you sure you even know who that is?"

"..."

"House...you're freaking me out."

"Then go away. I won't stop you."

"..."

"Why would you go out of your way to subject yourself to someone or something that is, as you so eloquently put it, _freaking _you out?"

"..."

"See...I came to a realization recently."

"..."

"Actually it might have been closer to a religious experience. Or not. I don't know. I don't really have anything to compare it to. But it was like...it was like I was waking up after being asleep for a really long time."

"..."

"And suddenly it was as though...up until that_ very_ moment, I'd gone my entire life without ever really seeing myself."

"..."

"And when I finally did glance at the mirror, I didn't like what I saw."

"What did you see?"

"Someone who was consciously choosing to be unhappy."

"And you actually think that you can change that, after all these years?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

"Well...that's great."

"Isn't it?"

"..."

"And yet you seem kind of depressed now."

"No kidding...I can't imagine why."

"Seems like a bit of an overreaction to me."

"What?"

"I mean, think about it. What have you really lost?"

"..."

"Face it, you haven't lost anything that isn't easily replaced."

"How can you even say that?"

"Because it's true."

"..."

"So I'm sure if you look around, you can find some other desperate, morally inferior, friendless, crippled drug addict with no self esteem to help you feel better about yourself."

"..."

"Heck, this is a hospital. The building's probably crawling with them."

"..."

"And if you can't find one, you've always got Sam."

"..."

"I can't tell you how glad I am, that we had this talk."

"I'll bet."

"So will be joining me this evening? I'm making meatloaf."

"I...don't think so."

"Suit yourself."


	8. Chapter 8

_House and Nolan discuss his concerns, regarding his relationship with Cuddy. Sorry for making you wait._

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"You're ten minutes early."

"Traffic was surprisingly light, especially for a Saturday afternoon."

"_Wow_."

"No traffic on the parkway _is _awesome, but hardly worth getting excited about."

"I meant you."

"You meant me _what?"_

"You look...very nice."

"..."

"Any special occasion?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?"

"I'm guessing it's because your shirt has not only been ironed, it's also tucked in...and you appear to have shaved...and it smells like you're wearing cologne."

"It's aftershave."

"Still...quite a deviation from your norm."

"..."

"So again, what's the occasion?"

"I had an epiphany."

"What sort of epiphany?"

"Well...I woke up the other day and suddenly realized that I was tired of looking like a slob."

"So it was a completely random decision, in no way related to the fact that you're currently in the courtship stage of a serious, romantic relationship."

"Nothing gets by you, does it?"

"If it did, I wouldn't be a very good therapist."

"Or goal keeper."

"So tell me, Greg...was it just another ordinary week?"

"I guess that depends on how you're defining _ordinary_."

"Alright."

_"Alright?"_

"I've decided to start taking everything you say at face value."

"Why?"

"Part of my new regime."

"..."

"I'm also not going to pry for details. I'm going to trust you to offer them voluntarily."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then it will be your loss."

"..."

"You'll get as much out of this as you put into it. Therapy is about meeting the patient halfway, not enabling their fears and weaknesses by doing all the work for them. I tried to make you as comfortable with your limitations as possible. I even went so far as to work around them...because I was genuinely convinced that was the only way I could get you to open up to me. And in the end, that wasn't very helpful. In fact, it may have even hindered your recovery."

"..."

"And it's not that I mind the constant prying for details. It's pretty much the definition of being a therapist. I just think that in your case, sharing would be a whole lot more productive if you were to volunteer the information and I didn't have to extract it by force."

"..."

"But we only have an hour, and judging by your expression, I'd say that your week was probably _not_ an ordinary one. So let's get started, shall we?"

"..."

"First off, how are things with you and Dr. Cuddy?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

"..."

"How long have you been dating now?"

"Uh...almost three months."

"You sound like you're not sure."

"I'm sure. I just...that's not really the word I'd use."

"What word?"

"_Dating_."

"The term implies commitment. Maybe you're not ready for that."

"I have no problem with commitment."

"Then what _do _you have a problem with?"

"The term _dating_ generally suggests that there have been, at some point, actual dates."

"You mean, you haven't gone on any?"

"We've only actually gone _out_ about three times, only once without the kid. Most of the time we spend together is at work, or at home afterwards."

"Whose home?"

"Usually hers."

"Because of her child care issues?"

"I'm assuming."

"Does that bother you, that you're required to come to her as opposed to her coming to you?"

"No...I mean, she has a legitimate reason. If there was no kid involved, then I'd probably have a problem with it."

"Have the two of you talked about this?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're reluctant to confront her about anything that might compromise her desire to be in a relationship with you."

"..."

"Where did you go?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said you went out three times. Where did you go?"

"There's a park by Cuddy's house. She likes to take Rachel there in the stroller, walk around, feed bread crumbs to the ducks..."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"I'm curious about something."

"Okay."

"What is Dr. Cuddy's first name?"

"Lisa."

"Do you ever call her that?"

"I may have at some point. But not recently, no."

"I just find it amusing that despite being intimate, you would continue to refer to her by her last name."

"Why?"

"It's just...unusual."

"..."

"And what does she call you?"

"House."

"Never Greg or Gregory."

"Only my mother can get away with calling me Gregory."

"So you both refer to one another by your last names."

"..."

"There's nothing wrong with that though. If you're both fine with it that is."

"..."

"So you went to the park to feed the ducks. What else?"

"We went out to get ice cream."

"With or without the baby?"

"With."

"And you said you went out once together, _without_ the baby. What did you do then?"

"We went out to dinner."

"Where?"

"Some Thai place on Rosedale."

"Did you do anything after?"

"We went home and had sex, on the living room floor of all places."

"And how was that?"

"You mean aside from the rug burn? Fine."

"And yet you actually sound kind of disappointed."

"Disappointed about what?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"I'm not _disappointed_. I just have a lot on my mind."

"That's what you're here to talk about, Greg."

"I know."

"Has Cuddy stayed over at your place at all?"

"Twice, not counting the first night that we hooked up. Both times, she brought Rachel with her."

"Where did the baby sleep?"

"In this little, portable playpen type thing."

"Did that bother you at all."

"Why would it?"

"Because it implies that Cuddy and her daughter are a package deal."

"..."

"I know how hard it is for you to share the people you care about."

"..."

"Is she sleeping through the night yet?"

"Pretty much. She sleeps from ten o'clock until about four or five in the morning. Then she takes a two hour nap in the afternoon."

"Does she ever wake you up?"

"Sure."

"What do you do when that happens?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...do you get out of bed and go tend to the child, or do you just wait and let Cuddy take care of it?"

"That would be a long wait."

"Why?"

"She's a very heavy sleeper. Her alarm can go off and she'll still be snoring away."

"I take it you're a light sleeper?"

"And an insomniac. Makes more sense for me to get up and deal with the kid."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"If it bothered me, I wouldn't be doing it."

"How many times have you slept at Cuddy's place, over the past three months?"

"I don't know the exact number."

"Estimate."

"Forty...maybe fifty times."

"Have you discussed the possibility of moving in together?"

"Not exactly. I mean, she's alluded to it. But I'm already spending the night at her place three to five days out of the week."

"So you do kind of live together, to some extent."

"I guess...unofficially speaking."

"Do you _want_ to move in with her?"

"At the moment, I don't know."

"Okay."

"..."

"There's obviously something that's bothering you, something more than what you just told me."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Body language."

"..."

"Remember what I said about volunteering information?"

"Yeah."

"If you deliberately withhold information that could be vital to your recovery, the only person who will suffer the consequences is you. All I can do is that which is under my control."

"..."

"So wouldn't it make more sense to tell me as much as possible, so that I might be more well equipped to help you?"

"You were right."

"..."

"I meant about me. Something _did_ happen and...it bothered me."

"Can I ask what that something was?"

"Yesterday I woke up early, and I couldn't go back to sleep."

"Does that happen often?"

"Almost every morning."

"Do you think it's possible that your insomnia might be caused by something...psychological?"

"I'd say it's more than likely the result of long term opiate abuse."

"Ah."

"Anyway...it's a struggle for me to get more than four hours of consecutive sleep. Cuddy was out like a light and I really didn't want to disturb her, if I could help it. So I quietly slipped out of bed, went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, and then headed to the bathroom to take a shower."

"Is that your normal routine?"

"During the week, yes."

"..."

"I was actually trying to be quiet, for once. But I must have failed."

"What makes you think you failed?"

"Because a couple of minutes later, she joined me."

"Joined you where?"

"In the shower."

"She just took off her clothing and stepped in?"

"Yes."

"Has she ever done that before?"

"Nope."

"I realize that you are in fact physically intimate. But have you ever seen each other fully nude, in a well lit environment?"

"Up until that point, no."

"And that made you uncomfortable, her getting into the shower with you like that?"

"Maybe a little. But that wasn't really the issue."

"What _was_ the issue?"

"She had apparently brought the baby monitor into the bathroom with her and sat it on the counter. After we'd been in the shower for about five minutes, Rachel started to cry. Cuddy got out of the shower to go tend to her."

"And that bothered you...that she'd abandon whatever the two of you were doing to go and tend to her child?"

"No."

"Then forgive me, but I'm not understanding the purpose of this anecdote."

"It will make sense in a few seconds."

"Okay."

"Once Cuddy left the shower, I assumed she wouldn't be returning."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Because Rachel was awake and needed her attention."

"And you're sure that didn't bother you."

"I'm not jealous, if that's what you mean. She's a baby. Her needs should come first."

"So what happened?"

"Cuddy left, went and retrieved the child, undressed her and brought her into the shower with us."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"And_ that's_ what made you uncomfortable."

"..."

"How old is Rachel?"

"She was born in December of 2009. So…what, nineteen months?"

"And you're wondering whether or not you've inadvertently tread on some sort of universal taboo?"

"I'm just…I'm uncomfortable with the idea of walking around naked in front of a toddler, especially one who is of the opposite sex _and_ who is not my biological relative...not to mention the fact that I was still sporting the remains of my morning wood."

"Did you share your concerns with Dr. Cuddy?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm giving up confrontation for Lent."

"Lent is in the spring."

"I'm getting a head start."

"You mentioned to me once that when you were a young child, you'd taken showers with your father."

"Yeah."

"How old were you when you stopped doing that?"

"I wasn't in school yet. So...about four maybe."

"And did that feel strange?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, did your father ever do or say anything inappropriate? Did he ever make you uncomfortable or touch you somewhere he shouldn't have?"

"No…but we were both male. And it wasn't like I knew at the time that he wasn't my real dad."

"Do you think that would have made a difference if you _had_ known?"

"I have no idea."

"Do you think that Rachel is aware that you and she are not biologically related?"

"Obviously not."

"Do you think she's aware that you and she are of the opposite sex?"

"I don't think she's even aware of the concept of _sex_."

"That's sort of my point."

"..."

"You have to remember that her frame of reference is rather limited. As far as she's concerned, the three of you are in the shower together, because that's where you belong. She doesn't have any reason to assume otherwise."

"..."

"And I feel compelled to point out...that depending on the course this relationship takes, you may be the only father figure she ever has."

"Give me a break."

"You don't think this is going to last?"

"Not long enough for Rachel to start viewing me as a _parent_."

"Why not?"

"It just...I don't know."

"I thought you said things were going well."

"No, I said they were going _fine_."

"The word _fine_ is generally used to describe something that is, at the very most, adequate."

"..."

"So you would describe your relationship with Cuddy as being _adequate."_

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Then how _did_ you mean it?"

"The word _fine_ can also be used to communicate...satisfaction."

"And _satisfaction_ is just another word that can mean a lot of different things."

"..."

"Greg, there's a big difference between being fulfilled, and being merely _satisfied."_

"..."

"Is this relationship fulfilling you in any way?"

"Yeah...sure."

"And yet you're convinced that it's going to be fairly temporary."

"..."

"Why?"

"Because everything is temporary."

"Let me ask you something. If you knew for sure that you and Dr. Cuddy were going to end up getting married and spending the rest of your natural lives together, would that alter your perspective of what happened in the shower?"

"I don't waste time theorizing about things that can only exist hypothetically."

"I see."

"..."

"This is a touchy subject, Greg. And there is _much_ disagreement about it, even among healthcare professionals. I can tell you where_ I _stand on it. But…I can't tell you what's right for you, or for Cuddy, or for Rachel. Only you know that."

"…"

"But there _is_ something I think it might benefit you to consider. Cuddy obviously doesn't have a problem with the idea of Rachel seeing you naked, or she wouldn't have brought her into the shower to begin with. I personally don't see anything wrong with what she did. However...I _do_ think she should have asked you first, or at least issued some kind of verbal warning. It sounds like she's assuming that because_ she _is comfortable with your naked body, that you are comfortable with it as well."

"..."

"I don't think it would be appropriate for Rachel to bathe with either of you, past the age of four...maybe five at very the most. But I'm not basing that on any sort of logic. It's just my personal opinion."

"Yeah."

"Is there something wrong?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Because you look distressed."

"..."

"So are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Distressed."

"..."

"Did you and Cuddy have a fight?"

"Not...exactly."

_"Not exactly?"_

"..."

"But something _did_ happen."

"I...hurt her."

"Hurt her how?"

"..."

"You mean physically?"

"It wasn't on purpose."

"Then what was it?"

"It was a reflex."

"Is she okay?"

"She claims to be fine."

"Do you think she's lying?"

"I don't know."

"Was she injured in any way?"

"No."

"Did you apologize?"

"I abandoned that plan in favor of hiding in the bathroom for three hours."

"..."

"I fully expected the cops to break the door down."

"And do what, arrest you for domestic violence?"

"…"

"I take it the cops never came."

"Nope."

"Did Cuddy say anything to you at that point?"

"She asked what I wanted to do about dinner."

"Was that inquiry out of the ordinary?"

"No...I'd taken out some ground beef that morning, so it could thaw. She wanted to know what I was planning to do with it."

"What were you planning to make with it?"

"Spaghetti."

"And she didn't mention what had taken place a few hours earlier?"

"Nope."

"But you said it was probaby just a reflex."

"Yes."

"So what set off the reflex?"

"We were fooling around."

"You mean sexually?"

"It hadn't quite escalated to that point just yet."

"But that's where it was headed."

"Mostly she was trying to tickle me."

"Are you ticklish?"

"I never really thought about it. Some spots, I guess."

"No one has ever tickled you before?

"Maybe when I was a kid. I don't remember."

"Do you like being tickled?"

"Not especially."

"Did it occur to you to tell her that?"

"..."

"So what happened?"

"She was kind of randomly pinching me…not hard. Just…you know."

"Places that she thought you might be ticklish."

"Exactly."

"…"

"Then…I'm going to assume that she just forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"Which leg was which."

"She pinched you right there, huh?"

"In hindsight, I think she was more frightened by my yelling the words _son of a bitch _at the top of my lungs."

"So when this happened, you hit her?"

"No."

"How exactly did you hurt her then?"

"I shoved her off of me and she ended up on the floor."

"How did she react to that?"

"I don't know."

"How can you _not_ know?"

"I told you...I got up and hid in the bathroom for three hours."

"What did you do in there?"

"Sit...think."

"For three hours?"

"I may have also played solitaire on my cell phone."

"Did she knock on the door at any point?"

"If she did, I didn't hear it."

"And when you came out, she acted like nothing had happened?"

"..."

"Greg...I have no way of knowing for sure, exactly how this went down. But what you did...I don't think it qualifies as domestic violence and I seriously doubt that she does either."

"..."

"As for why she hasn't bothered to address it...did it occur to you that maybe she's just embarrassed?"

"Why would _she _be embarrassed? I'm the one who sat on the bathroom floor for three hours."

"Well...for one thing, she's known you for a long time. So she should have been well aware of which leg was which. She was obviously distracted and it sounds like she was enjoying herself. It's natural to be careless, under those circumstances. But she ended up causing you pain as a result of that carelessness...pain severe enough that it resulted in you taking momentary leave of your senses. And given your reaction to her blunder, she probably suspected that you weren't enjoying what she was doing as much at you were tolerating it.

"..."

"I really think you should address these things with her. This is the stage during which you mold your relationship into whatever it's going to be for the next however many years. You ignore this and before you know it, you're ignoring everything. Stuff like this cannot just be swept under the rug. And if you don't deal with it now, it will emerge at some point in the future, and demand to be reckoned with."

"..."

"If I didn't know any better, which I'm not entirely sure that I do, I would say it seems to me like your solution to these issues is to just avoid dealing with them completely. That way your relationship with Dr. Cuddy will eventually fail and you can fulfill your prediction that it was never going to last."

"..."

"Which begs the question, why wouldn't you want it to last?"

"..."

"Greg, I realize that your experience in this particular arena is somewhat limited. But for what it's worth, nothing you have told me so far about your relationship with Dr. Cuddy has been outside of the realm of normal. These things...they're not insurmountable obstacles."

"..."

"Do you want this relationship to work?"

"What I want is irrelevant."

"Not to me."

"..."

"Just answer the question, yes or no. You either want it to work or you don't."

"Yes, I want it to work."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I just can't...overlook the possibility that it won't."


	9. Chapter 9

_Despite how it might seem, you probably don't know where this is going. In other words, assume nothing._

_HOUSE/NOLAN conversation_

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 9**

"So...you said on the phone that you had some kind of news to share?"

"Yeah."

"I know how much you hate small talk. So feel free to dive in and get straight to the point."

"We're moving on to phase two."

"You and Dr. Cuddy?"

"Yes."

"Apparently I'm not up to date on my relationship lingo. What is _phase two_?"

"Moving in together."

"Ah."

"Well...technically I'm the only one who's _moving_."

"So you'd be moving in with her."

"Yes."

"And when will this be taking place?"

"We're shooting for the first of next month."

"Shooting?"

"I'm...having some issues with my apartment."

"What kind of issues?"

"Just some things that I need to take care of, before they'll give me back my security deposit."

"How long do you expect that to take?"

"My lawyer has reassured me that everything will be smoothed out in time for the move."

"I didn't know you had a lawyer."

"Technically I don't. I have an ex-girlfriend who _happens_ to be a lawyer. But that sounds much less pithy."

"So you just called her up out of the blue and asked her to do this for you?

"She owed me a favor."

"That must have been awkward."

"Not really."

"Then I take it the two of you parted on good terms?"

"_Good_ may be too strong a word."

"I see."

"..."

"Does she know why you're moving, and who you're moving in with?"

"Yes."

"Did she express any sort of opinion on the matter?"

"Yes."

"Mind telling me what it was?"

"She said...she was happy to see that I'm finally getting on with my life."

"How do you feel about that statement?"

"..."

"Do you think she was being sincere?"

"I'm sure she was."

"Why?"

"Because she had nothing to gain from lying."

"So whose idea was it? For you to move in together, I mean."

"It was fairly mutual."

"But what was it that prompted the actual decision?"

"I was spending most of my time there. I got tired of running back and forth. Makes more sense to keep all of my stuff in one place."

"So it's just a matter of convenience."

"Most relationships are."

"I have to disagree."

"..."

"There are obviously aspects of_ this _relationship that are indeed convenient. But I don't think its survival is dependant on it."

"..."

"And while I'm pleased to hear about this particular development, I have to admit...I'm also a little surprised."

"About what?"

"A week ago, you were _certain_ that this relationship was doomed."

"I never said it was _doomed_."

"Okay...but you didn't even want to consider the possibility that it might succeed. Now you're moving in together. That's quite a leap."

"You're making it sound like a _much_ bigger deal than it actually is."

"There are some people for whom acquiring a new residence would not qualify as a major life change. You are not one of them. Whether you'd like to think so or not, this most definitely _is _a big deal."

"I just meant, by comparison."

"By comparison to what?"

"..."

"Is there something else going on?"

"..."

"Something must have changed between now and your last appointment. I'm simply wondering what it was that catalyzed that change."

"She's planning on stepping down."

"Who is?"

"Cuddy."

"You mean, as dean of medicine?"

"Yes."

"Permanently?"

"No. She's taking a leave of absence."

"For how long?"

"She hasn't decided yet."

"But surely there a limit to how much time off she can take."

"The board of directors agreed to hold her position for twenty-four months."

"That was generous of them."

"It's in her contract."

"Is she planning on returning to work when that time is up?"

"She said she wants to wait and see how she feels."

"Did she share this information with you before or after you made the joint decision to cohabitate?"

"Before."

"Huh."

"..."

"And when will she officially be stepping down?"

"At the end of the month."

"That's only what...two and a half weeks away? Will she be ready to go by then?"

"As far as I know, all she has to do is tie up some loose ends and track down a replacement."

"What is she planning to do with all of that free time?"

"She wants to teach."

"At the university?"

"Endocrinology...I don't know which specific courses they offer. It'll probably along the lines of _Diabetes and Metabolism _or_ A Survey: Chemical Composition of Hormones_..."

"This is...strange."

"Why?"

"I was under the impression that she was rather fond of her job."

"She is."

"..."

"And I'm fond of Vicodin. That doesn't make it _good_ for me."

"So you believe that there is some aspect of her current position that's having a negative impact on her life."

"Yes."

"And she must share that point of view, or she wouldn't be willing to take a job that will probably only pay a small fraction of what she's making now."

"It's not about the money."

"Then what _is_ it about?"

"She wants to work fewer hours. She wants a more flexible schedule and as little administrative responsibility as possible."

"I'm assuming this is so she can spend more time at home with Rachel."

"..."

"Would it be fair to say that Dr. Cuddy wouldn't make this kind of decision unless she was confident about its probability of success?"

"If you're asking if she's a control freak, then the answer is _yes_. She doesn't jump in the water without checking to see how deep it is first."

"The reason I asked is...taking a leave of absence is a huge risk, one she wouldn't be willing to take, unless she had already secured some other source of income. Because surely she's aware that even if she does procure a teaching position at the university, she may not even work enough hours to support herself financially."

"What are you getting at?"

"It sounds to me like, for all practical purposes, during those twenty-four months, her other source of income is going to be you."

"She doesn't need my money."

"That doesn't mean she wouldn't be comforted by knowing it was there."

"..."

"You agreed to move in with her, _knowing_ that she may very well spend the next two years being unemployed. Which means you made that decision, well aware of the possibility that she might end up depending on you in some capacity."

"..."

"From which I can only conclude that you now believe this relationship might last."

"..."

"So what's changed?"

"..."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"..."

"What's going on?"

"Did you ever find out something you _didn't _want to know?"

"Sure."

"Remember when I told you that Cuddy tried for three years to have a kid?"

"Yes, I recall you telling me that."

"She did progesterone, gonadotropin, IVF, the whole deal. I'm sure it cost a bundle. But it's not like she couldn't afford it."

"And how is this relevant to our discussion?"

"During that time she apparently had six unexplained miscarriages."

"Did she volunteer that information?"

"Not...exactly."

"Then how did you acquire it?"

"I may have glanced at her medical records."

"When did you do that?"

"A few days ago."

"Before or after our last meeting?"

"After."

"In the interest of time, and because I know it's unlikely to make any sort of difference, I'm just going to skip the whole lecture about respecting other people's privacy."

"I appreciate that."

"There are no _rules_, per se. But like you said, IVF is expensive. So patients with fertility issues are generally encouraged to stop trying after their third miscarriage. Occasionally they'll stop after four. I have never heard of anyone having six."

"She's not the type of person who gives up on anything, without putting up a proper fight."

"Did she end up having to bury any of these children?"

"From what I understand, she never made it past the eighth week with any of her pregnancies. From about twenty weeks gestation on, fetuses are considered human remains. Anything prior to that is considered biohazardous waste.

"Do you have any theories about what might have caused her to miscarry?"

"Not based on the information in her file. If I really wanted to figure it out, I'd start from scratch...do my own work-up, order new labs, perform my own tests."

"It sounds like you've actually thought about doing this."

"..."

"Which begs the question of _why_."

"Why what?"

"Why bother solving that particular puzzle?"

"..."

"What's in it for you?"

"..."

"I mean, it's obvious to me that you'd be doing this for her and not for yourself. But you must be getting _something_ out of it. I'm just curious what that something might be."

"..."

"Are you trying to help her get closure?"

"Does that sound like something I'd do?"

"Are you trying to make amends for something, perhaps pay her back something that you owe?"

"I don't _owe_ her anything."

"I meant that figuratively."

"So did I."

"Well that just leaves guilt."

"..."

"At some point you said or did something to her that you regret."

"..."

"And your silence tells me that I may have hit the nail on the head."

"..."

"So what did you do that you feel so guilty about?"

"I never said I felt _guilty_."

"Except that you do."

"..."

"Right?"

"It would take too long to tell you the _entire_ story."

"So give me the abridged version."

"A couple of years ago I had this six year old patient. Her parents were divorced and couldn't seem to come to an agreement about anything. And we were wasting a lot of time by letting them fight about it, when we should have been treating. So the court appointed Cuddy as the child's temporary guardian."

"And how did that go?"

"She made a few choices that I didn't agree with, medically speaking...things that I thought may have done more harm than good. And as a result I made some...unnecessary comments."

"Like what?"

"I don't remember exactly."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have brought it up."

"..."

"Come on. How bad could it be?"

"I told her it was a good thing that she'd failed to become a mother, because she'd probably suck at it."

"That's...pretty bad."

"Thanks."

"Why on Earth would you say something like that?"

"Because I'm an asshole."

"I don't think so."

"..."

"I mean, you have no self control to speak of, and you have little regard for personal boundaries. But you're not malicious or cruel. There must have been some other reason why you felt compelled to make such a statement. Either you were already upset to begin with or there was something else going on."

"I was detoxing."

"From Vicodin?"

"..."

"Why were you detoxing?"

"Again...it's a long story. The _why_ isn't really relevant. The only reason I'm mentioning it is because...apparently a few days prior to me making that statement, she'd suffered her fourth miscarriage."

"Are you just speculating or do you know that for sure?"

"I pulled the patient's file and matched it up with the dates in hers."

"Had you known at the time that she'd recently miscarried, would you have said or done anything differently?"

"I don't know. I'd like to think so. But given the circumstances, probably not."

"The circumstances being that you were detoxing."

"Yes."

"Do you regret saying that to her?"

"I didn't at the time."

"It sounds like you regret it _now_ though."

"..."

"Have you considered telling her that?"

"_Considered_ it."

"And decided against it. Why?"

"Things are going well for us right now. Not sure I want to ruin that by going out of my way to remind her of something I once said or did that caused her pain."

"Because otherwise she'd forget about it completely?"

"..."

"Do you think that she's going to suddenly remember that she hates you and then kick you to the curb?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"I'm asking you to examine your own logic."

"..."

"Look...I know that it probably feels like the best way to ensure the longevity of this relationship is to avoid participating in any discussion that has the potential to evolve into an argument. But the reality is, _every _discussion has the potential to evolve into an argument...and refusing to confront your issues will ultimately do more harm than good."

"..."

"If you continue on this path, your options will slowly become more and more limited. And you'll eventually have to choose between dealing with your issues, which are likely to have become completely unmanageable by then, or sacrificing the relationship altogether."

"..."

"Do you really want it to come to that?"

"..."

"You can't live in fear of abandonment, Greg."

"I'm pretty sure I can."

"I meant that you shouldn't."

"Easier said than done."

"Yeah...yeah, it is."

"..."

"There are two things about this that are still unclear to me."

"Only two?"

"The first of those things would be the degree to which you're supporting her decision to take a leave of absence."

"..."

"For whatever reason, you are in favor of her working less and spending more time at home...to the point that you'd be willing to support her financially so she could do just that."

"I shouldn't be supportive?"

"You absolutely should be supportive. I'm just wondering why."

"Why _what?"_

"Why you care."

"..."

"I'm also intrigued by your sudden desire to come up with an valid medical explanation for her miscarriages."

"..."

"It's certainly not your usual brand of mystery."

"..."

"Mind shedding some light on_ that?"_

"The majority of first trimester miscarriages are idiopathic. Most of the time, unless the parents request it, doctors don't bother investigating too deeply."

"So?"

"So having six in a row suggests some sort of unifying cause."

"Like what?"

"I don't know."

"But you suddenly need to figure it out?"

"..."

"What purpose will that serve?"

"..."

"Now I_ could _be wrong. But based on what you've told me so far and the nature of your involvement, I'm having trouble understanding the source of your motivation. It's clear that you care whether or not she..."

"She's pregnant."

"_What?"_

"Did I stutter?"

"..."

"Are you going to say something or are we just going to stare at one another?"

"Sorry...give me a second."

"Okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well that answers a few questions."

"..."

"Of course it also raises some."

"..."

"Like why you're not remotely curious."

"Curious about what?"

"About how a woman who spent several years and thousands of dollars trying, and ultimately failing, to conceive a child, was able to do so with little to no effort at all?"

"Hey...there was _definitely_ some effort involved. On my end, anyway."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Obviously my sperm is genetically superior."

"..."

"I mean, I always kind of suspected. But now we have scientific evidence."

"Can you be serious for a moment please?"

"You already know that I can't."

"…"

"What was the question?"

"How is this even possible?"

"I don't know."

"Not knowing something would usually bother you, especially if that something is medical in nature. And yet you seem okay with it."

"I'm not _okay _with it. I'm just...trying to have a positive attitude. I thought you'd be all for that."

"But this isn't about your attitude. This is about your apparent disinterest in what appears to be a rather perplexing medical mystery, one that directly involves you."

"…"

"_This_ is why you were looking at her medical file."

"..."

"You think her doctors may have missed something...and if they did, it might be something you could fix. And if you can fix it, that means she might be able to carry this baby to full term."

"What can I say? I'm an arrogant bastard."

"Wanting to help someone does not make you arrogant."

"But assuming you _can_ help them does."

"So is she reacting as nonchalantly to this, for lack of a better term, medical miracle?"

"Are you kidding? She wouldn't even consider the possibility that she might be pregnant."

"Then what was it that prompted her to get tested?"

"_I_ did."

"And what prompted _you_?"

"She'd missed her period."

"She told you this?"

"She was on the phone with her mom."

"And you overheard her side of that conversation?"

"Yes."

"You were eavesdropping?"

"Hardly. I wasn't even trying to listen. She was talking loudly enough that I could hear her two rooms away."

"Did you approach her afterwards?"

"Later that night."

"And was she upset when she realized that you'd overheard her conversation?"

"Not really."

"Um...is it possible that maybe she _wanted_ to be overheard?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, might she have been hoping to impart that information, without having to confront you directly?"

"..."

"Are her cycles fairly regular?"

"She says they are."

"What explanation did she offer for the missed period?"

"She said it was probably a result of stress or increased physical activity."

"_Has_ she increased her physical activity?"

"She's been jogging more lately. But not enough to result in amenorrhea."

"So how did you change her mind about the possibility that she might be pregnant?"

"She woke up vomiting on Monday morning, which she attributed to food poisoning…except that she hadn't eaten anything recently that could have caused food poisoning."

"I'm assuming you pointed that out."

"Naturally. She still wasn't buying it. We fought for a few minutes about my ability to properly cook red meat. But she eventually caved and I talked her into doing a urine test."

"You went out and got one?"

"She still had couple of them under the sink in the bathroom, from when she was doing the in vitro thing. I think she must have bought them in bulk."

"And was the test positive?"

"Yep."

"How did she react to that?"

"She said it had to be a mistake and that the test was probably nearing its expiration date and therefore the results were unreliable."

"_Had_ the test expired?"

"No."

"Huh."

"And it took me three more days to talk her into letting me draw blood. I was tempted to snag some while she was sleeping."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't want to wake up tied to a chair with my balls in a c-clamp?"

"Understandable."

"..."

"But you eventually talked her into letting you test her blood."

"Yeah…and it was positive also. I knew she wouldn't trust the results otherwise, so I ran it three more times to be sure."

"Stupid question, but were either of you using any form of birth control?"

"We didn't think we needed any."

"So she's definitely pregnant. There's absolutely no doubt."

"Either that or she has a golf ball in her uterus."

"How old is she?"

"You mean Cuddy?"

"Yes."

"She'll be forty-two in a few months."

"Meaning she's already at risk, due to both her biological age, and her history of unexplained miscarriages."

"Yep."

"How far along is she?"

"LMP was seven weeks ago, give or take a day."

"So taking into consideration that none of her previous pregnancies ever progressed past the eighth week, I imagine that she's feeling rather anxious right now."

"That's putting it mildly."

"Has she addressed her fears at all?"

"Quite the opposite."

"..."

"She has made it clear that she has no intention of discussing her pregnancy, or even acknowledging its existence, until the beginning of her second trimester."

"She's really terrified of disappointment."

"So it seems."

"Has she expressed any thoughts regarding the baby's paternity?"

"Like what?

"Like how she feels about you being the one to father her child."

"Not really. But like I said, she's reluctant to even acknowledge the fact that she's pregnant. So it's not like we've really talked about it."

"You said you looked at her medical records a few days ago. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Which you'd have no reason to be doing, unless you'd already confirmed that she was pregnant."

"I ran the blood test the night before."

"And the urine test?"

"Three days prior to that."

"So at what point did you overhear the telephone conversation between she and her mother?"

"Eight or nine days ago maybe? A little over a week."

"Prior to our last session?"

"Yes."

"So you already suspected that she might be pregnant."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you mention it?"

"Because it was merely speculative. I didn't want to say anything until I was sure."

"Huh."

"..."

"I distinctly remember you telling me that you didn't want children, that you had no desire to procreate whatsoever."

"Yeah."

"Has that changed?"

"Nope."

"And yet you seem okay with this...why?"

"It's one thing to not want kids, to go out of your way to prevent conceiving any. But…this is already done."

"Not that I'm condoning it, because I actually don't. But for the sake of argument, I feel obligated to point out that she could just as easily abort this fetus."

"She would never do that, and I would never ask her to."

"Why not?"

"You think I should?"

"No. I'm completely in favor of your decision. I'm just curious what it was that motivated it."

"Nothing in particular."

"Somehow I doubt it."

"..."

"You changed, which means something _else_ had to change. What was it?"

"Remember when I asked whether or not you'd ever learned anything that you didn't want to know?"

"Yes."

"I have_ no _idea why I did this...curiosity maybe. But when I found out she was pregnant, I immediately went online to research all the possible causes of spontaneous abortion."

"Okay."

"Anyway...I ended up coming across this website that had three dimensional, high definition images of fetuses, taken _daily _from the moment of conception, all the way to birth."

"I see."

"Let's just say that it was very...informative."

"Can I assume that, as a physician, you're already familiar with the stages of fetal development?"

"Yes."

"So you were in possession of that knowledge, prior to coming across that website, and probably have been for quite some time."

"What's your point?"

"You're acting like this is the first you've seen or heard of it."

"It's the first I've seen of it in high-def."

"..."

"It's been my experience that most people tend to steer clear of anything that has the potential to make them uncomfortable."

"Did those images make you uncomfortable?"

"..."

"What are you feeling right now?"

"I don't know."

"Is there any part of you that wants this baby?"

"I don't need to produce biological offspring, in order to derive meaning from my life."

"But that's not what I asked."

"For someone who has already suffered six first trimester miscarriages, the chances of conception resulting in a viable embryo are somewhere between _slim_ and _none."_

"So you're just preparing yourself for that loss in advance, by regarding your child's death as an inevitability."

"It_ is_ an inevitability."

"Then why go along with this? You could walk away. You claim to be indifferent, and yet you're moving in with her. That implies some level of support."

"..."

"Why the sudden interest in explaining her miscarriages?"

"..."

"Why be so supportive of her desire to work less and spend more time at home?"

"..."

"Maybe you're afraid that she'll abandon you otherwise."

"..."

"Maybe you think..."

"Maybe I just want to give her something that she hasn't been able to get anywhere else."

"..."

"Told you I was arrogant."

"We've covered this, Greg. Wanting to help someone does not make you _arrogant_."

"But assuming I can help them does."


	10. Chapter 10

__

It should be clear what's going on here. If not, let me know. Upsetting subject matter.

* * *

****

Chapter 10

"You don't have to be here for this, you know."

"I _live_ here."

"That's not what I meant."

"I _know_ what you meant."

"..."

"This is probably going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better."

"Well aware of that, thanks."

"..."

"How's your patient?"

"Do you honestly think that's what you should be most concerned about right now?"

"I can't ask about your patient?"

"Allow me to put this in perspective for you. If this was the ER and you and our patient were the only two people in the waiting room, you would get seen immediately and she would have to wait."

"I still have a job to do, House."

"And in ten more days, you won't. Now I may not be the best judge of such things. But based on the fact that you haven't taken anything resembling a vacation in almost a decade, I think it's safe to say that your priorities are a little out of whack."

"She's a friend of mine, okay? We went to school together...and I gave you the file two days ago."

"There's no reason to rush. She isn't dying. She's not even in critical condition. All she has is an unexplained rash. You should have sent her to a dermatologist."

"She's already seen three of them."

"The fourth one's usually the charm."

"Do you even have any theories?"

"Plenty of theories...Chase thought it was fungal. Taub thought it was eczema. Foreman thought it was an allergic reaction to her detergent."

"What about you?"

"Currently I'm leaning towards impetigo."

"I thought that only affected children."

"File says she's a pre-school teacher. I'm assuming that means she is in the presence of children at some point during the day."

"You ruled out everything else?"

"She didn't respond to the steroids. So we started her on broad spectrum antibiotics and gave her some medicated soap. The rash will probably be gone by tomorrow."

"Good."

"In the meantime, you're bleeding like John Wayne Bobbit..."

"House, this is normal."

"Then I'd really hate to see what you consider to be _ab_normal."

"I just meant, there isn't anything happening right now that I didn't expect...and it hardly constitutes an emergency."

"Actually, it _is_ an emergency. You're losing blood volume."

"It looks like a lot more than it really is."

"Blood loss is blood loss, Cuddy. Blood that used to be inside of you, where it belongs, is now outside of you, where it _doesn't_. You can replace fluid volume in a matter of hours. But it could take weeks for your hemoglobin to rebound."

"Did you tell them what you were doing?"

"Who?"

"Your team."

"Nope."

"You're sure."

"I think I would remember what I said to them. It was only an hour ago."

"So what _did_ you tell them?"

"Not to bother calling me, unless it was a matter of life or death."

"And they didn't ask where you'd be?"

"Of course they asked. I told them it was none of their business."

"Did they seem suspicious?"

"Of me? They're always suspicious."

"I meant...were they suspicious of the fact that you and I both happen to be missing...simultaneously."

"They only consult you when they need your permission to do something that's reckless or stupid."

"So?"

"So if I'm not there, chances are they won't be doing anything for which they would need your permission, thus making them much less likely to notice your absence."

"That...actually makes sense."

"But just in case, I asked Wilson tell your assistant that you and Rachel were both sick and not to bother you unless it's absolutely necessary. So I'm assuming that, if anyone asks where you are, that's what she will tell them."

"Why Wilson?"

"Because if I did something nice for you, for which I was getting nothing in return, it would elicit concern."

"Speaking of Rachel..."

"She's in the den, stacking her alphabet blocks. I put in one of those lame _Baby Einstein _videos."

"They're not lame. They're very educational."

"Then why do I always feel dumber after watching one?"

"Did you give her breakfast?"

"I sliced up an apple. And yes, before you ask, I removed all the skin first."

"That's all you gave her?"

"And a couple of those teething biscuits. But she didn't really eat much, more like mutilated it."

"She's probably getting her molars."

"Probably."

"So what are the chances of any of the members of your team stopping by unexpectedly?"

"Less than zero."

"But how can you be sure?"

"Well first of all, since you moved, they have no idea where you live. _And_ they have no idea that you and I are dating, let alone living together. Therefore they have no reason to assume that this is where I'd be found."

"You haven't told _anyone_ about us?"

"Just Wilson...and for whatever reason, he actually appears to be keeping it to himself. I suppose it's possible that he told Sam. But I doubt she'd care enough about that information to bother doing anything with it."

"What about Foreman? He obviously knows something is up, after walking in on us that night."

"I told him it was sympathy sex."

"_Sympathy _sex?"

"You know...some kind of fleeting, _shoulder to cry on_ gone horribly wrong."

"Did he buy it?"

"He seemed to."

"Good."

"..."

"It's not that I'm trying to hide anything. I don't want you to think that's what this is."

"Okay."

"I was going to tell people...about us. But we've only been dating for three months. Last week I found out I was pregnant...and now I'm dealing with_ this_."

"..."

"At this point, I just think that divulging any of that information would only complicate matters...resulting in lots of uncomfortable silence and awkward conversations."

"You _really_ don't have to explain."

"I don't?"

"You're talking to someone who got shot at point blank, in his own office, and didn't bother to notify his parents until six months later."

"..."

"I actually _never_ told them. My mother found out from someone else and then she frantically called me to confirm."

"What about when you had the infarction?"

"Stacy called my parents. I would never have bothered."

"Why not?"

"They weren't really involved in my life. I didn't see the point in upsetting them or making them feel morally obligated to provide me support."

"Why wouldn't you want support?"

"I didn't say I didn't want support. I said I didn't want _their_ support."

"Why not?"

"Because they suck at it, or sucked in my father's case...and anything they might have done for me would probably have been a product of guilt and not genuine concern."

"..."

"You know...I used to think that it would be easier."

"What would?"

"Being alone, not having a significant other, not having a family or any friends."

"Why would that be easier?"

"Having to watch someone else watch you suffer…it's worse somehow...knowing that your pain is causing someone else pain. And what's funny is, most people _want_ to help. But there's nothing they can actually do and having them around...is just a constant reminder of that."

"You said you_ used _to think that. What changed your mind?"

"I've been alone for the majority of my adult life."

"And?"

"And I don't recall it ever being _easy_."

"..."

"Anyway...the only person I told about you being pregnant was my shrink. I'm pretty sure he didn't share that information with anyone, except for maybe his wife. And she's never met you, so I think we can consider her safe."

"I haven't told anyone."

"I thought you said you were going to tell your mom."

"I was going to...just not until the end of the first trimester."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to get her hopes up."

"..."

"Good thing, huh?"

"..."

"Oh_ God_."

"Are you okay?"

"Do I _look_ okay?"

"How bad is it?"

"Bad...oh _God_."

"I take it the heating pad isn't doing much for you."

"It was...for a while. Now I can't even tell it's there."

"You want to soak in the tub?"

"No."

"You want a big bag of ice?"

"No."

"..."

"What...what is it?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, House."

"You shouldn't be doing this here."

"Doing what?"

"We should take you to the hospital."

"No."

"You need a proper D and C."

"House...no."

"Why not?"

"It could cause permanent damage my cervix and uterus."

"Uh...are you planning on using them again?"

"..."

"You wouldn't have to go to PPTH. You could go anywhere. We could leave the state, if you wanted. We could admit you under an alias, get you a private room, IV fluids, something for the pain..."

"I don't need a D and C, House."

"I'm pretty sure you do."

"I just meant...I don't need to go to the hospital. I can take care of it myself."

"Oh yeah? How? You got a tray set up in the other room? The absence of a sterile field means that you'll probably contract an infection, become septic and die. But other than that, great idea."

"I'm not comfortable talking about this."

"Yeah? Well I'm not comfortable with being naked in front of a toddler. But you didn't seem too worried about _that_."

"You're going to bring that up _now_?"

"And then there was the whole prostate exam thing."

"You're fifty-one years old. You should be having annual physicals. According to your file, your last complete one was in nineteen ninety-seven. You should be getting routine blood work done every six months, CBC, Chem-20, PSA."

"Just in case no one has ever told you...I don't care if they're gay, straight or some combination of the two. Contrary to popular belief, most men are not in a hurry to submit to a digital rectal exam, at least not one that is strictly for medical purposes."

"I told you that I could do it."

"There are _so_ many things wrong with that idea, that I don't even know where to start."

"Or you could ask Wilson to do it."

"Even more things wrong with _that_ idea."

"What's the big deal? It's a very simple process. It's ninety seconds at the most."

"The big deal is that I will probably have to look you in the eye again, at some point."

"Give me a break..."

"Oh...like you can't relate."

"Relate to what?"

"The desire to maintain an invisible boundary, between your personal business and the rest of the world."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Like...when you're on your period, for instance."

"What _about_ when I'm on my period?"

"You won't even talk about it."

"I didn't realize you _wanted_ to talk about it."

"I don't. I'm just saying...it's like God forbid I should somehow deduce that you're wearing a tampon. You keep a box of them in the bathroom. They slowly disappear...so they're obviously being used for _something_. You're not comfortable with the idea of me knowing that you bleed out of your vagina every twenty-eight days. And yet you want me to let you stick your finger up my ass and palpate my prostate."

"..."

"So you don't have any problems with me putting my penis into your vagina, as long as we don't have to discuss it at any point. Are there any other rules I should know about?"

"House...this is personal."

"Yeah, I'll bet. You want to do everything yourself, even things that people weren't meant to do alone. And I thought _I _was the one with intimacy issues."

"..."

"So what's the big plan, McGuyver?"

"I'm not talking about this, House."

"You seem fairly convinced that you can handle this here, all by yourself. As a physician, I'd like to know exactly how you plan on doing that. Educate me."

"Why, so you can mock me?"

"I _really_ don't think this is an appropriate time for mockery."

"Like that's ever stopped you before."

"Tell you what. If you tell me, I'll get a full physical."

"When?"

"As soon as I can."

"Where?"

"As far away from here as possible."

"..."

"I'll also be wearing one of those Mexican wrestling masks to protect my identity.

"Okay."

"So what's the plan?"

"I thought maybe I could just wait this out and once the bleeding subsides, I can evacuate my uterus with a...medicated douche."

"_That's_ your brilliant plan?"

"See...this is why I didn't want to tell you."

"Don't get me wrong. I can see how that might seem like it _would_ be a good idea. The problem is...it's not."

"Recent studies conducted by homeopathic doctors have indicated that, despite existing research, it might actually be beneficial to douche after a first trimester miscarriage."

"Then they're idiots. If they knew what they were talking about, they'd be _real _doctors."

"..."

"Your body requires a certain amount of its own natural flora to fight off potential infections, like those that might result from the accumulation of endometrial debris."

"..."

"A medicated douche would kill the good bacteria, leaving you completely vulnerable to pathogens. It can also result in conditions like endometriosis, which could lead to sepsis and is co-morbid with several types of cancer."

"..."

"If you decided to douche using tap water, you'd be introducing unnecessary bacteria to a warm, wet place, where it's sure to thrive...and bottled water, unless you used a garden hose, the force of it would not be sufficient to properly evacuate your uterus. The only way to ensure total elimination of all the debris is dilation and curettage."

"..."

"And that's not even addressing the fact that, after a miscarriage, you're not supposed to have sex or insert anything into your vagina for at least ten days."

"..."

"All of which you already know, thus proving my point that you're not objective."

"..."

"Look...it's your body. You can do whatever the hell you want with it. But if you were _my_ patient, I would schedule you for a D and C, consider doing a transvaginal ultrasound to rule out ectopic pregnancy. And at the very least, I would put you on five hundred milligrams of magnesium daily and give you something to manage the pain."

"I have something already."

"What...Motrin?"

"Tylenol with Codeine."

"How did you get a hold of that?"

"I had a bladder infection last year. I filled the prescription, but didn't end up using it. So I put it away for a rainy day."

"Is it helping?"

"Not really."

"How many tablets do you have left?"

"Four or five. I've been cutting them in half."

"That would explain why they're not helping."

"..."

"You're going to need another scrip, preferably Demerol..."

"That's not necessary."

"That unattractive grimace on your face implies that you are, at the very least, at a six on the pain scale. If you're not planning on seeking actual medical attention, this could go on hours or days. So why don't you just humor me and take the pills?"

"If it gets worse, I'll consider it."

"But in the meantime you'll just writhe in agony? I'm familiar with that plan. It's not as glamorous as it sounds."

"..."

"Breathe as slowly as you can, in through your nose and out through your mouth. I know it sounds stupid. But it actually _does_ help."

"Thanks."

"..."

"Look...I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I can only imagine how tremendously uncomfortable this whole situation must be for you."

"What exactly is it about this that you think is making me uncomfortable?"

"I think we both know that this isn't really your thing."

"It's not my _thing_? What the hell does that mean? I wasn't aware that this was _anyone's_ thing."

"I meant all the…hand holding and moral support."

"How much time have you spent observing me in a committed relationship with someone of the opposite sex?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Stacy and I dated from fall of ninety-two until about spring of ninety-eight. The two of you were only friends during the last eighteen or so months of our relationship, during which you saw us together about once a month for no more than twenty or thirty minutes at a time."

"What's your point?"

"That you have no idea what is and isn't my _thing,_ because you have nothing to compare it to."

"…"

"I know it's probably hard for you to believe. But I _am_ capable of providing moral support, and have actually been known to do so in the past."

"When?"

"Lots of times."

"So pick one."

"You actually _want_ an example?"

"..."

"I'd have to think about it."

"So think about it."

"Okay...I got one, I think. I'm not sure if it qualifies."

"Only one way to find out."

"Stacy's mother died at the age of fifty-seven, of metastatic breast cancer. It was a huge shock to her family, since she'd always been in good health. It had only been diagnosed a few months prior. In fact, it almost wasn't diagnosed at all."

"Why not?"

"Uh...I want to say it was Memorial Day. Stacy's parents had this huge neighborhood barbeque. Wilson came along, brought his second wife. You remember Bonnie, right?"

"Yes."

"Stacy's mom was making casual conversation with Bonnie, when she mentioned experiencing…I don't remember which symptoms, something paraneoplastic. Now Bonnie was a bitch. But she was a good listener. She always paid attention to everything that Wilson said, sometimes word for word. She apparently recalled having been told about a patient of Wilson's who had exhibited similar symptoms. When she brought it to his attention, he agreed that Stacy's mom should be checked out immediately. He referred her to the doctor he was working for at the time...Preston, Prescott...I forget the guy's name. But within days, she'd been diagnosed. And two months later, she was dead."

"I remember her mentioning that her mother had died, because she requested a bereavement. But she didn't give me any details."

"After her mom died, we both took a week off from work. I spent the first four days assisting Stacy's father with the funeral arrangements, which he needed a lot of help with, seeing as he's legally blind. Stacy was too upset to do anything remotely useful, and her deadbeat brother couldn't even be bothered making an appearance. I kid you not. During those four days, she actually cried so much that she passed out from dehydration."

"So how exactly did you go about offering _moral support_?"

"After the funeral, we unplugged our phones and spent the remaining three days sitting on the couch in our pajamas, watching old movies and eating mint chocolate chip ice cream right out of the carton."

"And she was comforted by that?"

"Apparently."

"What if I _wouldn't _be comforted by that?"

"Then there are other flavors of ice cream."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then I guess I'll just have to try something else."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't have just wasted three minutes talking about it."

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm alright."

"No, you're not."

"..."

"Can you give me a number?"

"That's just it. It fluctuates. It comes and goes, almost like..."

"Waves?"

"Exactly."

"High?"

"About an eight."

"Low?"

"One or two."

"..."

"It's actually not as bad as it was a few hours ago. Either that or I'm just getting used to it."

"You'd be surprised how much pain a human being can tolerate and still continue to function. After a while you realize that you can't remember what it feels like to _not_ be in pain."

"..."

"Well you won't have to worry about that, at least. If everything goes as it should, this will all be over by tomorrow, and you'll be good as new."

"..."

"..."

"You were right."

"About what?"

"About me...wanting to do everything myself."

"If my shrink were here, he would ask you to speculate about why you might feel that way."

"That's just it. I know _exactly_ why I feel this way. I just can't seem to do anything about it."

"..."

"My mom was a housewife, married at nineteen to a thirty year old man. She was a borderline agoraphobic. She'd go outside, but only during the day. She wouldn't drive and she'd always stay within a one mile radius of our house. I guess I was about twelve when I started realizing that my mother had no life outside of her husband and children. She didn't have a job. She didn't have any hobbies. She barely had any friends. She was completely dependent on us to give her life meaning."

"..."

"I convinced myself that I could succeed at anything I might set out to achieve...and most importantly...that I wouldn't need anyone's help to do it...I didn't want to rely on anyone else to give my life meaning."

"So...how's that working for you?"

"It's not."


	11. Chapter 11

_About 12 hours after chapter 10. House and Cuddy in bed, talking. _

_Sorry this took me so long. This is the first half of a conversation. But it just made sense to split it up. _

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"House."

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"Apparently."

"..."

"Either that or I'm dreaming that you're asking me if I'm awake. The first seems more likely."

"Are you awake enough to have a conversation?"

"Provided that we won't be discussing nuclear fission or the four laws of thermodynamics."

"..."

"Are you bleeding again?"

"No."

"You know...there's a pharmacy on Alpine that dispenses schedule two opiates and they're open all night. I could probably make it there and back in twenty minutes."

"I don't need any opiates, House."

"Right, I forgot. You'd rather be in pain."

"I'm not in pain. The cramping actually stopped a few hours ago."

"You'll have to teach me that trick."

"There's something that's been on my mind for a while. Well not a _long_ while...a couple of weeks maybe. I was going to address it sooner. But then I got distracted...and I hadn't really figured out how I was going to approach the topic in the first place. But considering how we spent the day, it doesn't make sense to put it off any further..."

"If you're kicking me out, can it wait another week? I ordered some stuff on Ebay to be shipped to this address."

"I'm not kicking you out, House."

"Well if you're breaking up with me, can't it least wait until morning? Because this pillow top mattress is _really_ comfortable."

"Why do always assume that?"

"Assume what?"

"Whenever I say I need to tell you something, you assume that I'm planning to either kick you out or dump you."

"Gee, I can't imagine why."

"..."

"Relax, I was kidding."

"No, you weren't."

"You're right. I wasn't."

"..."

"I realize that you're probably unaware. But there appears to be a bit of a trend."

"What sort of trend?"

"Every girlfriend I've ever had has dumped me."

"Seriously?"

"Oh don't pretend to be surprised."

"I...actually _am_ surprised."

"..."

"How many girlfriends have you had?"

"Too few to even bother mentioning."

"You actually think that's going to quell my curiosity?"

"Nope. But it keeps me from answering the question for another fifteen seconds."

"So how many were there?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because if there really were only a few of them, their behavior hardly constitutes a _trend_."

"Yes, it's a coincidence that I've alienated every woman I've ever dated."

"What if it is?"

"The simplest explanation is almost always the right one."

"So that means that sometimes it isn't."

"You _really _want to know this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"..."

"I'm pretty sure it's not _nearly_ as interesting as you think it's going to be."

"That's okay. I'll settle for whatever you're willing to tell me."

"It's really hard to argue with you when you insist on being agreeable."

"I know."

"I went on a handful of dates in high school. But I only had one actual _girlfriend_. We were friends for a few months prior. But our romantic involvement, if you want to call it that, only lasted about three weeks. College...same thing, lots of dates, but only two actual girlfriends. Those relationships lasted about three or four months each. In grad school I dated the same woman off and on, mostly off, over a span of two years. I didn't date anyone again, until I was thirty-four, when I hooked up with Stacy. We lived together for a little over five years. That's it."

"So you've had five girlfriends in your entire life?"

"Six including you."

"Do you mind me asking why they dumped you?"

"Are you looking for inspiration?"

"No."

"They all had different reasons."

"So tell me about them then. What was your first girlfriend like?"

"You realize this was like...thirty-five years ago."

"So just tell me what you remember."

"Well...her name was Nicole. And if memory serves, we were both sixteen and in the eleventh grade."

"Did you ask her out or did she ask you out?"

"I was going to ask her. But she beat me to it."

"..."

"And we probably would have stayed together for more than three weeks, but her dad was a bit of a nut job."

"He was mentally ill?"

"Not exactly...just very suspicious of my interest in his daughter."

"Why?"

"I'm assuming it had something to do with me being white."

"She wasn't?"

"She was black."

"But why would you being white make him suspicious?"

"Well...he was suspicious of people in general. But from what I gathered, his theory was that I was planning on procreating with as many minority females as possible, because I was part of some evil, Caucasian plan to thin out and ultimately decimate all other races."

"..."

"Really all I was looking for was someone to neck with and go _halvsies_ with me on an order of chili fries."

"..."

"Of course we're talking about the same guy who drank his own urine, because he thought the government was poisoning the water supply. He also used to store several months worth of canned goods and toiletries in his basement, in case of nuclear fallout."

"I'm assuming he must have told his daughter that she couldn't date you."

"Correct."

"So she didn't really dump you then."

"Maybe not in the technical sense. But _she_ ended the relationship. I didn't. As far as I'm concerned, that implies _dumpage_."

"Were you in love with her?"

"As much as one sixteen year old can be in love with another. In other words, no."

"Why did you go out with her in the first place?"

"You wouldn't believe me, if I told you."

"Try me."

"She was the first person I'd ever met who had dreadlocks."

"And that's the only reason you dated her?"

"No...that's just what piqued my initial interest."

"You're right. I don't believe you."

"..."

"I find it hard to believe that you'd choose to date someone based on their physical appearance alone."

"Hey...I was sixteen...the point in a young man's life during which all the blood that should be going to his brain is being diverted to his penis."

"Still...I don't buy it. The dreads might be enough to attract your attention. But for you to have stayed interested, even if it was only a couple of weeks, she must have been intellectually gifted, in some capacity."

"The Periodic Table of Elements."

"What?"

"She had a photographic memory. She could recite the Periodic Table of Elements...groups, blocks, atomic weights...the whole thing. She taught herself to speak Latin when she was about twelve. She memorized all kinds of stuff...Grey's anatomy, the individual parts of plant and animal cells, the structure of an atom. She could name complex chemical compounds...and she was fluent in binomial nomenclature."

"_Binomial nomenclature_?"

"Taxonomy...a system of classifying and categorizing every living thing on the planet. You had to have covered it at some point in college, probably at least half a dozen times."

"I'm sure I did. But at the moment, all I can seem to remember is_ kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species_."

"I'm sure that's more than most people retain."

"But you found that attractive, her ability to memorize scientific data?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Why?"

"Because she didn't _just_ memorize that stuff. She also understood it."

"Were you still friends after she broke things off?"

"Not really. It wasn't like we were uncivil towards one another. It was just...I moved again, a few months later. She and I didn't bother keeping in touch."

"How often did you move?"

"Oh...about once a year. I did manage to scrape up a handful of friends during that period of my life. But I never bothered staying in touch with any of them. There was no point, seeing as the chances of me seeing any of them ever again were rather slim."

"Do you ever wonder what happened to her?"

"Ten or so years ago, I came across her name in a medical journal."

"She's a doctor?"

"She a forensic pathologist for Detroit Metropolitan Police."

"Wow."

"I thought about calling her, at the time. But I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I seriously doubted that she'd even remember me."

"What about the women you dated in college?"

"Both of the girlfriends I had as an undergrad broke up with me because they realized they were in love with someone else."

"..."

"Well technically only one of them was in love with someone else. The other one was in love with Jesus."

"Ah."

"Tough to compete with that."

"I'll bet."

"I tried curing leprosy. But she wasn't impressed."

"Were you in love with either of _them_?"

"I was infatuated. But I'm not sure I'd call it _love_. Come to think of it, at the moment, I can't even remember either of their names."

"..."

"And Darla, the woman I was with during grad school...she wasn't really my girlfriend, at least not officially."

"Then what was she?"

"I don't know if there's even a word for it."

"So make one up."

"She was my...mattress buddy."

"Ah."

"..."

"And were you in love with _her_?"

"Not especially. I mean, I liked her as a person and she was very attractive. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't just in it for the sex. And ethically speaking, I was only comfortable with that arrangement because I was under the impression that she had a similar agenda."

"She didn't?"

"She was ten years older than me. She's already been married and divorced. She wasn't even a student. She worked in the admissions and records office."

"You didn't have feelings for her?"

"Depends on how you define _feelings_."

"But she had feelings for you."

"She seemed to think she did."

"So that's why she broke up with you...she realized you didn't feel the same?"

"That's a bit of an over simplification. But yes. There were other factors...like me crashing her car into a mailbox."

"Were you drunk?"

"Actually no...I swerved to avoid running over her cat."

"..."

"Which is kind of funny if you think about it, considering that a few days later, it got hit by a milk truck."

"Did you date anyone else during grad school?"

"I think you already know the answer to _that _question."

"I meant _besides_ me."

"..."

"And I hardly think what we did qualifies as a _date_."

"..."

"I'm actually not sure _what_ it would qualify as."

"I went on some dates, yes. If what you're really asking is whether or not I engaged in casual sex with anyone else who I'd just met, the answer is _no_. What happened with you was...a rather isolated instance. And at the time, my bedpost was embarrassingly notch free."

"..."

"Actually it's still rather notch free."

"What about Stacy?"

"I'm pretty sure you already know what ended _that_ relationship."

"That's really all there was to it...the leg?"

"Well...there was obviously already some underlying tension. I think we were just starting to lose interest in each other. The infarction was just a convenient excuse for us to break up. Maybe if it had taken place earlier in our relationship...we probably could have stayed together, if we'd wanted it badly enough."

"Were you in love with _her_?"

"At one point. It just didn't last. I could have tried harder to make it last. _She_ could have tried harder. We just...didn't."

"..."

"And in hindsight...I think most of the people on the planet are reluctant to accept that maintaining their enthusiasm for another human being is something they should have to actively work on. People fall in love. They idealize the other party. They create this fantasy in their minds, of exactly how they think their relationship should unfold. Then they throw in the towel when reality fails to live up. That's like...pushing the ejector seat button, anytime there's the slightest bit of turbulence."

"..."

"People don't stick it out anymore. They used to try harder to stay together. Now they just give up on something, the moment they realize that it's going to be work."

"I would never have guessed that you'd have such strong opinions about human relationships."

"It's not exactly a subject that I go out of my way to discuss."

"..."

"Didn't you say that you wanted to ask me something? Or was _that_ it?"

"That wasn't it."

"Okay."

"We've been dating for four months now...and I think I've been fairly patient. I don't know if it's my personality. Maybe it's just insecurity. But I can't help it. I really do need to know...and you haven't said."

"Haven't said what?"

"Are you in love with me?"

"Well that at least explains the battery of questions about my previous relationships."

"You don't have to answer, if you don't want to. I just thought it would be good for us to..."

"Don't say that."

"Don't say what?"

"That I don't have to answer. If you didn't want an answer, you wouldn't have asked."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...the fact of the matter is, unless someone else forces me to leave my comfort zone, I probably won't. So don't feel obligated to tip toe around me, just for the sake of avoiding conflict."

"You're saying you _don't _want to avoid conflict?"

"I'm saying the word _conflict _has a negative connotation...but it probably shouldn't."

"Why?"

"Well first of all...conflict is inevitable. It can't be avoided. And second of all, it's necessary. Without conflict everything would stand completely still. Nothing would ever change or improve or evolve. And this...whatever this is, isn't going to work unless you're willing to stand up to me. Because the last thing I need, at this stage of my life, is another spineless enabler."

"Understood."

"..."

"You have a problem with that, don't you?"

"A problem with what?"

"The L word."

"..."

"You never use it...and you cringe whenever I do."

"I've used it."

"During sex doesn't count."

"Whoever made up that rule obviously wasn't getting any."

"..."

"Words are just...words. Anyone can say anything they want. There's no way to know for sure, what's true and what isn't."

"So your solution is to not believe anything _anyone_ says."

"It seems like the safest approach."

"..."

"Of course, it's also the loneliest."

"Do you believe _me_?"

"I...think I'm going to opt out of answering that question."

"Why?"

"Because there's no way I could possibly respond, that would end up in my favor."

"House, are you in love with me or not?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"Stop evading."

"I'm not evading. I'm completely serious. I'm _telling _you to think about it. Take into consideration _only_ what I've done and _not_ what I've said and then ask yourself...whether or not you think I'm in love with you."

"Yes."

"Well then _there's_ your answer."

"Why can't you just say it?"

"If someone is in love with you, it should be apparent. It should be so obvious to you, that you wouldn't require constant verbal affirmation."

"Yeah well...some of us_ like_ verbal affirmation."

"And that's fine. It's just not necessary."

"What are you basing that on?"

"If a relationship is at least moderately healthy, then it shouldn't _need_ to be constantly reaffirmed."

"This isn't about healthy or unhealthy. This is about you being afraid to express yourself emotionally."

"I'm not _afraid_."

"Then why not say it? You've implied that you're in love with me. How hard would it be to take that extra step, by actually saying it out loud?"

"If it's already been implied, then why do I _need_ to say it out loud?"

"We're going in circles, House."

"That explains the dizziness."

"Which means there's something you're not telling me."

"If you say so."

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I already told you, I'm _not_."

"Except that you're full of crap."

"..."

"I know you too well, House. You don't do _anything _without a reason."

"Why would you assume that reason is fear?"

"Because you're not being rational."

"So what?"

"So a few minutes ago, you told me that you wanted me to stand up to you, that you didn't want me to accommodate your limitations. You said that conflict was necessary for change and growth."

"I take it all back."

"Hey...maybe I was wrong. Maybe you _don't_ have a reason. Maybe you just don't care. Maybe the reason you can't tell me that you're in love with me is because you're _not_."

"That's _not _the reason."

"Then what is it?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Why don't you _want_ me to know?"

"I just said I had a reason, and it doesn't even involve you. Why can't we just leave it at that?"

"So you can continue to sequester yourself in your little comfort zone, destined to never again see the light of day?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake..."

"House, if you can't even..."

"_Yes_, I'm afraid. _Yes_, I have a problem with that word. You want me to write it up and have it notarized? Why don't we take out an ad in the paper?"

"..."

"Everyone I've ever said that to has eventually abandoned me."

"Is that what you think, that I'm going to abandon you?"

"I don't know."

"..."

"You _said_ you loved me."

"Because I do."

"Then you said…you wished that you didn't."

"…"

"You're not the first person to say that to me."

"..."

"I'm just...tired of being someone that people regret caring for."

"I don't regret caring for you, House. I think I did, at some point. But that wasn't your fault. I regretted caring for you because I was under the impression that whatever I was feeling, it was never going to be mutual. My solution was to try and convince myself that you were a waste of my time, that I wasn't really missing much by not being with you."

"Did it work?"

"Obviously not, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"..."

"I guess what I really want to know is...who are you?"

"..."

"I don't mean literally. I just mean…who you are right now, this person I'm in love with…is that really you? Is this who you've been along and I was just too blind to see it? Or is this some act that you'll keep going, just long enough to reel me in?"

"It's not an act."

"Then what is it?"

"I have no idea."

"..."

"I've never liked myself before, not really."

"And you like who you are now?"

"Maybe."

"..."

"I can't tell you who I really am, Cuddy...because I don't know."

"..."

"What I _do_ know is that, although the odds are against it, I'd stay this way as long as possible."

"..."

"Is that good enough for you?"

"I guess it will have to be."


	12. Chapter 12

_Takes place the day after chapter 11_

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"What are you doing?"

"Watering the lawn."

"I can see that. I was referring to the fact that you're doing it by hand. Don't you have one of those fancy, timed sprinkler systems?"

"Yes..but a couple of the heads are clogged. So half the water is ending up on the sidewalk instead of the grass."

"Sounds like a problem."

"Not a problem. Someone's coming to adjust it on Monday."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Is _what _necessary?"

"Having someone come out here to do something I could probably do myself."

"I have no doubt that you could fix the sprinkler system, House. You could probably fix a space shuttle, if you were determined enough."

"Okay."

"Which is precisely why there's no need for you to prove it to me."

"So you'd rather pay an absolute stranger to prove it to you instead?"

"It's still under warranty."

"So?"

"So the adjustment will be free."

"Hmm…quite the dilemma."

"What is?"

"Now I'm torn between my inherent need to assert my manliness and my deep affection for things that are free."

"I'm sure I can think of some more creative ways for you to assert your manliness."

"Dilemma resolved."

"..."

"Don't the gardeners usually do the watering?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you just let them do it?"

"I should be making _you _do it."

"Why?"

"You may have noticed things are a little overgrown around here. The gardeners haven't been here in three weeks."

"Why not?"

"They quit."

"Weren't you paying them enough?"

"I was actually paying them plenty. I'm thinking it has something to do with you yelling at them in Spanish."

"So I yelled at them in Spanish. Big deal."

"They're Portuguese."

"It figures. That's like the _one_ language I don't speak."

"Either way, I don't think we'll be seeing them again."

"It's just as well. Someone who doesn't know how to prune rose bushes has no right to call themselves a _gardener_."

"Oh really? What do you think they should they call themselves?"

"Lawn maintenance technicians."

"…"

"Are you going to hire new ones?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because _you_ are."

"Oh really?"

"You scared them away. _You_ find a replacement, preferably one that doesn't mind being screamed at and who understands one of the fifteen languages you speak."

"Eleven."

"Whatever."

"I actually came out here to ask if you wanted something to eat."

"I had a yogurt with granola earlier."

"Let me clarify. I meant something with enough calories to sustain human life."

"You wouldn't be asking unless you already had something particular in mind. What is it?"

"Dolmathes."

"You mean stuffed grape leaves?"

"Yep."

"I haven't had those in years. What are you filling them with?"

"Brown rice...which I'm going to cook in chicken broth, crushed pine nuts, dill, onion, parsley and lemon zest."

"That's exactly the way my mom makes them."

"Really? What a strange coincidence."

"_Is_ it a coincidence?"

"No. I got the recipe from her when we went to her house last Sunday."

"Did you ask or did she offer?"

"She offered."

"Wow."

"What?"

"She barely knows you."

"So?"

"My mom doesn't give out her recipes out to just anyone. She usually doesn't give them out at all."

"Seriously? She gave me a whole stack of index cards, in this little metal box."

"Are the recipes typed or handwritten?"

"Handwritten."

"She must have been _really_ impressed with your pineapple upside down cake."

"It's not a terribly difficult desert to make."

"Maybe not. But it's her favorite...second only to this rich kind of thing that's made with marzipan and covered with green icing. I want to say she called it a _princess cake_."

"_P__rinsesstårta."_

"Yes. You've heard of it?"

"It's Swedish. It literally means_ princess cake_. It's popular in Scandinavian countries."

"Yeah well...she loved it. But she didn't make it as often as she probably would have liked."

"Why not?"

"Marzipan is made with almonds. My dad and my sister were both allergic to almonds."

"Just almonds or nuts in general?"

"I think nuts in general. Why?"

"Because you can make marzipan out of pistachios and cashews."

"..."

"I've never worked with marzipan. But it's not complicated. I could probably make a prinsesstårta."

"Well her birthday's next month. If you want to score serious points with her, _that_ would be the way to go."

"Do you think I _need _to score points with her?"

"Actually no. You're the first man I've ever dated who she hasn't found immediate fault with. Of course it probably doesn't hurt that you can speak Yiddish and that you both watch the same soap operas."

"Oh yeah? What did she think of Lucas?"

"That he didn't have a real job and he wasn't old enough to have facial hair."

"And not only do _I_ have a real job, but I am definitely old enough to grow facial hair."

"..."

"And I don't drive an ice cream truck."

"..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then what's with the exasperated sigh?"

"Sorry...it's not you."

"Then what is it?"

"I've watered this grass every day, since the gardeners quit...and look at it. It's still dying."

"Grass actually doesn't need to be watered _every_ day. But even if it did, this probably wouldn't be the ideal time to do it."

"What do you mean?"

"It's best to get all your watering done before nine o'clock in the morning or after five o'clock in the evening."

"Let me guess…with direct sunlight, the water will evaporate before the plants have a chance to absorb it."

"That does seem like it would be the most obvious explanation."

"It's not?"

"Look…see how all the grass in the middle of your lawn is yellow?"

"Yes."

"The middle of the lawn gets the most direct sunlight during the day. Now you'd think…the grass must be all dried out from the heat, and that's what's killing it. So the logical solution would be to give it more water, right?"

"Right."

"Wrong. It's actually getting plenty of water, probably way more than it needs. It's just getting it at the wrong time."

"…"

"Ever get a sunburn, after spending the day in the water, at the beach?"

"Yes."

"You get covered with blisters...and it ends up worse than it would have been if you'd spent the day, back on the sand, laying on your towel instead."

"..."

"Do you know why?"

"No. But I'm assuming you do."

"When you spray the water, the grass gets wet. Individual drops of water have a very small surface area. But water doesn't just conduct heat, it also refracts light, which in turn creates what?"

"More heat."

"Exactly. Those drops of water can triple their own temperature in a matter of minutes, long before evaporation can take place. The sun heats the water until it is literally boiling the grass underneath. _That's_ what's killing your lawn."

"..."

"Water less often and at the right time, and your grass will be green in no time."

"And it didn't occur to you to mention this sooner?"

"Sure it occurred to me."

"And yet you didn't bring it to my attention...why?"

"I don't know if you're aware of it or not, but you're fairly sensitive to criticism."

"So in order to spare my ego, you let me kill my own lawn."

"Well it sounds really stupid when you put it like _that_."

"So where did you pick up this handy tidbit of information, Martha Stewart?"

"No. It was my fifth grade science project."

"You must have been an interesting child."

"I really wasn't."

"..."

"So...grape leaves, yea or nay?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Great."

"..."

"Um...I'm not good at this sort of thing."

"What, stuffing grape leaves?"

"No."

"..."

"I feel like I should probably ask how you're doing, after the whole...you know."

"You mean physically?"

"I mean in general."

"I'm okay."

"You're sure."

"Yes."

"Good."

"Thank you for asking."

"You're welcome."

"Is that it?"

"No."

"..."

"In light of what happened yesterday, I think...there's something that I need to address."

"Okay."

"You probably don't even remember this. But about three years ago...it was during that whole Tritter fiasco. We had this six year old patient. Her parents were divorced. She ended up having acute intermittent porphyria..."

"I remember."

"Right."

"I've been wanting to address it for a while myself. I mean...I didn't see the point before. But once we started dating...I don't know."

"Why didn't you?"

"I assumed that you'd already forgotten, that bringing it up might even do more harm than good."

"..."

"I mean, you had no way of knowing this at the time. But considering what was going on in my life at the moment, that was pretty much the worst thing you could have possibly said."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out...much too late, of course."

"Why'd you say it?"

"I was in pain. I was...angry."

"At me?"

"At you, at myself, at the world. You were in my face a whole lot more than usual. It seemed like you were going out of your way to subject yourself to my abuse, when I was doing everything in my power to drive you away. It was almost as if you were being tolerant to spite me."

"I was."

"And that would be why I took advantage of the fact that you'd made yourself a convenient target for my frustrations."

"I can relate."

"You _can_?"

"I was in a lot of pain yesterday, and I said some things that I probably shouldn't have."

"Well I obviously have no first hand experience from which to draw. But from what I understand, a miscarriage can actually be as physically painful as the act of giving birth."

"True."

"And yet...no matter how bad it is, you have the luxury of knowing that it's temporary. You know that at some point in the near future, the pain will be over and you will get some relief."

"What's your point?"

"You knew that the pain you were experiencing was temporary. I on the other hand, had no idea when relief would come, or if it would ever come at all."

"Meaning what, because your discomfort was chronic and not acute, you were more entitled to lash out at the people around you?"

"No."

"..."

"Look...in no way am I attempting to discount your experience..."

"It kind of sounds like you are."

"Well that's not what I'm_ trying _to do."

"Then what_ are _you trying to do?"

"This is coming out all wrong."

"..."

"I just want to make it clear, that what I said to you was an accurate reflection of the degree to which I was suffering."

"..."

"I know it doesn't excuse anything. I just...don't think you had any idea just how much pain I was in."

"..."

"But if you ever want to find out, try developing an opiate addiction. Wait about five years or so. Then out of the blue, with no notice whatsoever, I will force you to detox cold turkey. You won't believe the kind of bullshit that'll come out of _your _mouth."

_"Bullshit?"_

"Yeah."

"And how are we defining _bullshit_, for the purposes of this conversation?"

"You don't know what _bullshit_ means?"

"No...I want to know what _you_ think it means."

"Nonsensical, unnecessary, pointless, unwarranted, untrue...you need more synonyms? I could go and get a thesaurus."

"Which part of what you said was _untrue_?"

"All of it."

"Are you saying that you weren't serious?"

"Serious about what?"

"You said it was a good thing that I'd failed to become a mother...because I obviously sucked at it."

"Uh no, I wasn't even in the same ballpark as serious. "

"..."

"You thought I was?"

"..."

"Wait a minute...you mean to tell me that all this time, for the past three years, you've been under the impression that I was completely serious when I made that statement?"

"…"

"Well that explains a lot."

"When I was in the process of trying to adopt Joy, it seemed like your goal was to discourage me."

"It was."

"..."

"But it was never because I thought you'd make a lousy mom."

"Then why?"

"..."

"You brought this is up, House. Talk to me."

"Do you know what it feels like to be miserable, while everyone else around you is happy, all the while knowing that you will never have what they have? Or what it's like to be stuck, unable to grow or change, but forced to watch other people moving on with their lives?"

"Yes and yes."

"See that's just it. Your life was pretty empty at the time, just as empty as mine...maybe even more so. And you were so desperate for something to fill that empty space, it seemed like you would have stuffed any old thing in there...anything that you thought _might_ have the potential to fulfill you."

"You thought that it would be a mistake for me to adopt, House. You even said so at the time."

"What I _thought_ was that, due to your unrealistic expectations, you were ultimately going to end up disappointed. And by then it would be too late to do anything about it. You'd be stuck with the kid."

"You were...protecting me?"

"If that's how you want to interpret it."

"Why the hell didn't you just _say_ that?"

"Because I didn't know how."

"You didn't have any trouble telling me just now."

"Yeah well...I've been in therapy for over a year. I may have learned a few new tricks."

"..."

"I just figured that even if I did miraculously find some way to accurately convey my feelings, you wouldn't take me seriously anyway. I didn't want to waste my effort."

"..."

"And there was probably a part of me that didn't want you to be fulfilled."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't want you to have anything that I couldn't have."

"So...what _do_ you think of me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...as a parent."

"I think the only thing you're doing wrong is obsessing over the possibility that you're doing something wrong."

"I don't get it. Do you think I'm doing anything wrong or not?"

"I'm sure you are. You're probably making all _kinds_ of mistakes. But so is everyone else on the planet. There's no official, correct, scientifically proven way to raise a child. So worrying about how everyone else thinks you're doing is kind of pointless."

"..."

"But that's not the kind of feedback you're looking for, is it?"

"..."

"What you're _really_ asking here is whether or not I _personally_ think you're doing a good job raising your kid."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"I think I lack the kind of life experience that would make someone a good judge of such things. But for what it's worth, I think you're doing just fine."

"..."

"And hearing that makes you happy."

"Yes."

"Me thinking you're doing alright makes you happy."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I honestly don't know."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't."

"Not everything in life is going to make sense, House."

"..."

"I have no idea why your opinion matters to me. I only know that it does."


	13. Chapter 13

_Takes place about a week after chapter 12. Angsty._

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"Are you just now getting home?"

"Yep."

"House, it's almost eight o'clock."

"Surgery took way longer than it should have."

"You mean you actually scrubbed in?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"The family asked me to."

"When has that ever made a difference?"

"The surgeon wasn't confident enough about her ability to resect a kidney. She wanted a nephrologist on hand, and apparently there weren't any others available."

"You mean in the hospital?"

"No, I mean...within a fifty mile radius."

"Why not?"

"Because the National Kidney Foundation is having some huge dialysis awareness seminar in Boston. I guess everyone in the eastern seaboard went but me."

"..."

"Besides...I didn't have to do anything surgical. All I did was stand there and say _yes, that kidney sure does look inflamed. Let's take it out_."

"I take it you weren't able to find a donor?"

"I put her on the list the minute we got the file. But with type O, the best bet is usually a live donor."

"Neither of the parents were a match?"

"Nope...and they thought maybe the older sister or brother would be a match. But they weren't."

"It's nice that they all got tested."

"They're putting on a show...for themselves mostly."

"Why do you always think that?"

"I don't _always_ think that. The kid is fourteen, her older siblings are both over the age of twenty and living on their own somewhere. Neither of them have seen her in over a year. Meanwhile, the parents are both lawyers and total workaholics."

"That doesn't mean they don't care about her."

"I think she would disagree. I overheard the parents talking to each other in the waiting room. Apparently their daughter had been experiencing lower back pain for months. She was retaining fluid in her hands and feet, had difficulty urinating and handful of other symptoms that would have rather definitively pointed to kidney disease."

"..."

"According to the patient, she only mentioned these things to her mother briefly, around the time of their initial presentation, at which point they were dismissed as being side effects of her menstrual cycle. As the symptoms became more severe, she didn't bother telling her parents because, and I quote, _they'd probably be too busy to care_."

"Wow."

"Now...we can't cure glomerulonephritis. But if she'd come in sooner, we might have diagnosed it in time to prevent total organ failure."

"How long will she survive?"

"You mean without the transplant? The other kidney is barely working. Even with dialysis every seventy-two hours, it probably won't last more than a year...maybe eighteen months. _With_ a transplant, she could live another ten years or more."

"What are her chances of finding a donor in time?"

"About the same as her chances of being struck by lightning."

"..."

"And on that uber depressing note, I'm going to bed."

"It's Saturday."

"So?"

"You've got the next two days off."

"I'm with you so far."

"I thought we could do something."

"I just got finished working for twenty-four hours straight."

"..."

"I mean _actual_ work. Not that _sitting behind my desk and bossing everyone else around _stuff I normally do."

"You usually make breakfast on Saturday morning."

"You don't even _eat_ breakfast."

"I eat breakfast."

"A slice of grapefruit and half a pint of non-fat milk is _not_ breakfast. In fact, in some countries it might actually qualify as torture."

"I have a surprise for you."

"Is it under your shirt?"

"No."

"I hope it's a box of doughnuts."

"It's not."

"Then I don't want it."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I really don't."

"What would it take to change your mind?"

"I'd have to be properly motivated."

"I think I can manage that."

"Not in _those_ pajamas you can't."

"I got you something."

"It better be either food or porn. Otherwise, it can wait."

"It's neither of those things. But it's something that I'm pretty sure you want."

"What I _want_ is to go to bed."

"How were you planning on spending the day?"

"I was going to sleep until about two in the afternoon. Then I thought I'd crawl out of bed, take a hot shower, chill a couple cans of Sapporo Black Label, order some of that barbeque chicken pizza that you say is going to clog my arteries, and watch that four hour documentary I taped on the history of the guillotine."

"I have something better than that."

"I doubt it."

"I got that Belgian waffle iron."

"What Belgian waffle iron?"

"The one that you were drooling over in that culinary arts catalogue the other day."

"I wasn't _drooling_."

"I had it shipped overnight."

"The non-stick one with the removable grid?"

"…"

"You could have just led with that."

"You're staying up?"

"I am _now_."

"…"

"Wait."

"What?"

"Do we even have the necessary ingredients?"

"I have some Bisquick."

"You do realize that Bisquick is like the white trash of pancake batter, right?"

"Well I know we have eggs. What else do you need?"

"Milk, butter, flour, sugar, baking powder, salt."

"I'm pretty sure we have all of that...except for the milk. I gave the last of it to Rachel this morning."

"I might be substitute it with something else. Do you have any sour cream?"

"Nope."

"What about yogurt?"

"I just bought a quart of it. It hasn't even been opened it yet."

"Perfect."

"..."

"So...what's the occasion?"

"What do you mean?"

"The waffle iron."

"..."

"My birthday already passed, the winter holidays are still a few months away and as far as I know, we don't have any sort of anniversary to celebrate."

"I can't just buy you something?"

"You can. But you're a control freak. Which means you like to keep your randomness and spontaneity to a minimum. I'm not saying you're not generous. I'm just saying...I doubt that you'd buy me something, unless you had a specific reason."

"That's probably true."

"Which leads me to think that you're buttering me up."

"Buttering you up for what?"

"You tell me."

"I...may have something serious that I need to discuss with you."

"Define _serious_."

"..."

"Oh, you're going to make me guess. This'll be fun. Let's see. You're on sabbatical right now. So I'm guessing it's probably not work related. Maybe it's a patient referral...a friend of a friend of yours needs a favor or something to that effect?"

"It's not work related and it doesn't involve a patient."

"Then who _does _it involve?"

"Only people who are in this room."

"Including Rachel?"

"I suppose, yes."

"So...why the guessing game? Why don't you just tell me what it is?"

"Because I hadn't really figured out how I was going to do that just yet...and I thought I had more time."

"How _much_ more time?"

"I didn't think you'd figure out what my actual motives were, until after you'd broken in your new waffle iron."

"Okay."

"Is that it?"

"Is _what_ it?"

"You're...not going to pry any further?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"There's no need."

"..."

"It involves me, right?"

"Right."

"And it's important enough that you don't want to risk screwing it up, hence your cleverly bribing me with the waffle iron."

"True."

"Logic suggests that I'm going to find out about it eventually...if not from you, then from someone else. So there's no need for me to waste my energy, trying to extract that information by force."

"..."

"And you just said that you were originally planning to tell me after I'd broken in the waffle iron, which would probably have taken place sometime today...meaning that whatever it is, you'll be disclosing it sooner than later."

"Do you ever get sick of being so smart?"

"Never."

"..."

"So what did you and Rachel do yesterday, since you didn't have me here to entertain you?"

"I graded research papers all morning."

"Any good ones?"

"I would describe most of them as being merely...satisfactory. They're not bad. They're just not extraordinary."

"Welcome to Generation Z."

"There was one that might interest you. It was the only paper that received a perfect score."

"What was it about?"

"The connection between long term opiate use and neurotransmitters."

"Fascinating, I'm sure."

"I actually found it rather informative."

"I don't need to read an essay about something I've been struggling with, every day, for the past fifteen years."

"I know that. I wasn't trying to say...oh dammit."

"What?"

"I just remembered. Someone from the pharmacy called for you."

"When?"

"Around noon, Rachel and I walked to the park, ate a picnic lunch and fed the ducks. We were there about an hour. They must have called then."

"And they left a message?"

"I saved it for you."

"Great."

"I thought it was interesting."

"You thought _what_ was interesting?"

"The reason they were calling."

"..."

"They wanted to let you know that all _three_ of your refills were ready to be picked up."

"All three, huh? Yeah, that's interesting alright. Remind me to sue them for violating my HIPAA rights."

"House, I didn't even know you were _taking _any prescriptions."

"Well...now you do."

"Look...I know that it's none of my business."

"You're right. It's not."

"But I hope that you'll eventually trust me enough, to let me in on such things."

"…"

"I mean, considering your medical history...the chances of you becoming sick or injured, are probably way above average."

"..."

"This isn't just me being nosy, House."

"Yes, it is."

"If something should happen to you, I need to know what you'd want me to do."

"And you think I can tell you that _right now_?"

"You can't?"

"I can't anticipate _every_ potential situation."

"No...but you_ can _provide me with any information that you think might be relevant. Look at what happened to your patient, all because she refused to notify anyone of her symptoms."

"Tell you what...if I develop another blood clot, feel free to chop off whatever extremity you want...except for my penis."

"See...I can't even tell if you're being serious."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

"Do you trust me?"

"I trust that you'd know better than to lop off my penis. How's that?"

"Would it even be up to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...if it actually came down to it, would a decision like that be made by me?"

"What difference does it make?"

"I think I deserve to know whether I'm going to be responsible for another person's life."

"Why are we having this conversation...because the pharmacy called, because you just _now_ realized that I've been taking prescription medication?"

"..."

"Yes."

"_Yes,_ what?"

"Yes, it will be up to you."

"..."

"You're in charge. You're numero uno, the MVP, the big cheese, the head honcho, the chairman of the board. If anything happens to me, my life is _literally _in your hands. Sorry if I couldn't think of some clever way to romanticize it for you. Grand, empty gestures are more Wilson's department."

"You're saying that you've appointed me as your medical proxy."

"As intelligent as you are, I didn't think you would need it to be spelled out for you. But yes...that's what I'm saying."

"Since when?"

"Since...August twentieth."

"Why August twentieth?"

"I assure you, it was a completely random choice."

"You don't do anything _randomly_."

"There's a first time for everything."

"..."

"And I only filled out the paperwork on the twentieth. It's possible that it wasn't actually filed until the following Monday."

"Yeah...but something specific must have happened to cause you to make that decision on that particular day."

"Nope."

"You're sure."

"It was just an ordinary day."

"Okay."

"..."

"I'm...confused."

"About what?"

"About why you'd been willing to make me your healthcare proxy, but neglect to tell me which medications you were taking."

"It's all in my file. If I become incapacitated, you would have immediate access to that information."

"Okay...but why did it not occur to you to ask me in advance?"

"Ask you what?"

"Whether or not I'd be willing to fulfill that role."

"And what was I supposed to do if you'd said _no_?"

"You...thought I would say _no_?"

"I don't suppose you were considering making me _your_ healthcare proxy."

"..."

"Didn't think so."

"I was actually. I mean I_ am_. I just...wanted to talk to you about it first."

"Uh huh...and when were you planning on doing that?"

"We could do it right now."

"Yes...we could. But that doesn't answer my question, does it?"

"I guess I hadn't quite figured out how I was going to address it."

"But you thought that _I_ should know...the guy with zero social skills and practically no relationship experience."

"You don't understand."

"No, I don't think I do."

"This is more complicated than just me appointing you as my medical proxy."

"..."

"I mean, would you even be comfortable making medical decisions for me?"

"Hey...I'm not even comfortable making medical decisions for _me."_

"House...can you be serious please?"

"No."

"I don't think that something like this should be a spur of the moment decision."

"That's because you're physically incapable of making spur of the moment decisions."

"I meant that it's something that bears discussion."

"…"

"And I was definitely planning on addressing it. I guess I just wasn't sure how you'd respond."

"…"

"I'm sure you're well aware...that it can be difficult to talk to you about certain things."

"..."

"But there is something I need to tell you...or ask you, depending on how you look at it."

"…"

"I was going to wait to do this. But since you've already gotten the ball rolling...I guess this is as good a time as any."

"…"

"Even if by some chance, we don't end up staying together..."

"Yeah, I saw_ that_ coming a mile away."

"I'm not breaking up with you, House."

"Sure you're not."

"Can you just listen to me for a minute?"

"..."

"If by some chance, we don't end up staying together, regardless of whatever circumstances split us apart, and regardless of how we might feel about one another...if by some chance, anything should happen to me...I would really like you to become Rachel's legal guardian."

"..."

"You're more than welcome to decline, of course. This would be completely dependent on your consent.""

"…"

"Because the last thing I want is for you to feel obligated."

"..."

"I'm sure my mom will probably be irritated that I chose you instead of her."

"..."

"And it's not that I don't trust her. It's just that she's...well lately, I'm not sure if she's _all there_."

"..."

"She's a bit too young for senility. But still...I think it would be irresponsible to leave a child in her care."

"…"

"Did you hear me?"

"..."

"House?"

"..."

"Okay, your silence is actually starting to freak me out. Please just say something."

"It's a dopamine reuptake inhibitor."

"What is?"

"..."

"And what are the other two?"

"One is a low dose antipsychotic. It's used in conjunction with the DRI to treat long-term, medication resistant depression."

"And the last one?"

"Extended release anxiolytic."

"Do you take those every day?"

"I take the first two every day. The Klonopin…I have to be extra careful with, due to my history of drug addiction. I only use it if I absolutely have to."

"What do you use it for?"

"Same thing everyone else uses it for."

"For seizures?"

"Okay...same thing everyone _else _uses it for."

"You...have panic attacks?"

"..."

"When did _that_ start?"

"..."

"Has this been going on long?"

"..."

"Hey, you can just drop a bomb like that and refuse to answer any follow-up questions."

"I hadn't gone home yet."

"When?"

"When I got off the rig."

"..."

"I sat there for a while, even after they took her body away. When I got out, I remembered that I'd forgotten my cane. I just started limping. I had no idea where I was going. All I wanted at that point, was to get away."

"You're talking about Hannah."

"And for some reason, Foreman decided to chase me into the lobby."

"..."

"Between the exhaustion, the pain, and my existing physical handicap, it was obvious that I wasn't going to be able to outrun him."

"What did he want?"

"I think he was under the impression that, considering the circumstances, I might be a danger to myself."

"You were."

"Yeah well...I told him to piss off."

"Why?"

"Because Foreman can only pretend to care on a short term basis, and I didn't want to bear witness to the exact moment when his ability to feign interest in my well being officially gave out."

"If he didn't care, then why would he chase after you?"

"I doubt that he even knows the answer to that."

"So he left?"

"Yep."

"..."

"He didn't take much convincing either. I think he was actually relieved."

"..."

"As I was watching him walk away...it was like the space around me was shrinking. I was...uncomfortably warm. My chest became tight, and I couldn't seem to draw in any air."

"..."

"I wondered if maybe I was dying. I mean, there was no logical reason for it, no _medical _reason...and the chances that I'd sustained internal injuries during the secondary collapse, were fairly slim."

"..."

"For a second, I thought about calling out...about calling out before he got too far away to hear me. I actually thought about just _asking_ him for help. The funny thing is, I don't know what the hell I thought he could have done for me...probably nothing. And even if there _were_ anything he could have done for me, I doubt he'd have been willing to do it."

"And you've had panic attacks since then?"

"I've had them before that. Just not chronically enough to warrant the use of medication."

"So how often do you have them?"

"I don't know...two, maybe three times a month."

"Does anything in particular set them off?"

"Stress, fatigue, trying to do too many things at once."

"How come I've never seen you having one?"

"You have. You probably just didn't know it."

"What do you mean?"

"You know when I get up and make a mad dash to the bathroom, and then end up closing and locking the door behind me?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not so I can use the toilet."

"..."

"I just thought you should know who you'd be leaving your child in care of, in the event of your untimely demise."

"..."

"I'm flattered. I really am. But I think that she would probably be better off with your mother."

"Why?"

"..."

"You think you'd be an unfit parent, because you're being medicated for depression?"

"There's a lot more to it than that and you know it."

"..."

I'm a recovering addict, and I spent the summer in a psychiatric hospital. I'm still in therapy and probably will be for the rest of my life."

"I don't care about those things, House."

"Sure, at _this _very moment."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that when novelty of our relationship wears off, and it _will _wear off, you'll shed your rose tinted lenses and go back to seeing things as they actually are."

"That's funny."

"Why?"

"Because right now I feel like things have never been clearer.'


	14. Chapter 14

__

House and Cuddy have a conversation about a handful of random things. Sort of a transitory chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

"You're back."

"And you didn't pause it."

"Pause what?"

"The movie."

"I didn't know you wanted me to pause it."

"I told you I was going to the restroom."

"You mean you actually _went_ to the restroom?"

"Where the hell else would I go?"

"I thought it was some kind of subtext."

"Subtext for what?"

"For _okay...I've officially had enough of this chick flick. I'm going to pretend that I have something else to do, so I won't have to watch the rest of it."_

"You got all that out of me needing to go to the restroom?"

"..."

"Interesting."

"Do you want me to rewind it to wherever you left off?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You missed about twenty minutes worth."

"It's almost over anyway. Besides, I already know how it ends."

"You've seen this before?"

"That surprises you?"

"Well...yes."

"I saw it in the theater with Wilson."

"..."

"His idea, of course."

"Of course."

"I ended up with bruises though."

"Bruises from what?"

"From Wilson, elbowing me in the ribs."

"Why would he feel the need to do that?"

"You know that part when the ship crashes into the iceberg?"

"Yeah."

"I may have expressed some misplaced enthusiasm."

"…"

"Oh, come on. It's not like we didn't already know what was going to happen."

"..."

"He got what he deserved though."

"Who?"

"Wilson."

"How so?"

"He was an emotional wreck for the rest of the night. I had to get him drunk, just so he'd stop crying. For the next two weeks, if I even mentioned the movie, his eyes would start watering."

"And naturally you mentioned it as often as possible."

"Are you kidding? I'd have been an idiot not to. You can't put a price on entertainment like that."

"So you're telling me that you sat through this entire film and managed to remain completely unaffected?"

"I wasn't _unaffected_. I acknowledge how incredibly sad this is. It was a horrible, devastating tragedy. I just don't feel the need to get all weepy about it."

"Instead you derive amusement from those of us who do."

"Exactly."

"So you weren't even slightly moved?"

"Sure, I was moved. You just can't appreciate it, because I'm not wearing any mascara."

"..."

"I would have thought you'd figured this out by now. But I'm not exactly the kind of guy who cries at the end of movies."

"..."

"Or in the middle of them, for that matter."

"So you've _never _seen a movie ending that made you cry?"

"Is that what I said?"

"So you _have_ seen a movie ending that made you cry."

"Yes, _a_ movie...as in the singular."

"One movie? In your entire life, you've only seen _one_ movie ending that made you cry?"

"Yep."

"What was it?"

"You actually think I'm going to tell you?"

"Either that or I'll figure it out by myself."

"I doubt it. You could spend all day guessing and you'd never figure it out."

"Is it something that might make other people cry?"

"I have no idea what makes other people cry."

"…"

"You're asking whether or not a normal, mentally healthy, well adjusted person be moved to tears by this movie?"

"Yes."

"I seriously doubt it."

"…"

"And trust me. You're not going to glean any deeper insight into my personality by acquiring this information."

"If that were the case, you wouldn't be guarding it so carefully."

"…"

"Does anyone else know?"

"Nope."

"Not even Wilson?"

"…"

"He _does _know."

"Yes...and if you call him to find out what it is, I will never forgive you."

"So it's embarrassing."

"It's not _embarrassing_."

"Then what is it?"

"It's...how the hell did we end up talking about this anyway?"

"We were watching Titanic."

"Ah yes…Titanic. Allow me to summarize. Oh my God, that's a big ship! It sure is. That's why they named it _Titanic_. They were going to name it _D__ick_, but they thought that might be too obvious. So for the sake of the women and children on board, they opted for something slightly more subtle."

"_Dick?"_

"Those silly, arrogant homo sapiens. They actually thought that their boat was unsinkable. When will man ever learn? In a battle against nature, they will always lose. Newsflash everybody...when it's pitch black and you're in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, hitting an iceberg isn't just possible, it's likely. In fact, you'd have a better chance of successfully crossing a busy highway, while blindfolded, than you would of making it across the Atlantic without encountering any ice bergs."

"..."

"When you're traveling at maximum speed, which at the time would have been about twenty-four knots, thirty-five seconds is not enough time for fifty thousand tons worth of steel to change its course. In other words, an iceberg did not sink Titanic. _Stupidity_ sunk Titanic."

"..."

"Despite there being too few life boats to accommodate the passengers, the number of casualties could still have been dramatically reduced, had someone taken the time to load them correctly."

"..."

"And what is this_ I'll never let go _crap? She'll never let go, my ass. The second she realized he was dead, she pried his icy paws off of the door she was floating on and let him sink to the bottom of the Atlantic like a bag of bricks."

"I don't get it."

"What don't you_ get_?"

"Why the hell did you sit here and watch this with me, if you already knew you weren't going to enjoy it?"

"I never said I didn't enjoy it."

"You're analyzing it to death."

"I analyze everything to death."

"_That's _how you express your appreciation for something, you pick it clean until there's nothing left but a dried out skeleton?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well...whatever works for you."

"..."

"So…sad movie endings."

"What about them?"

"The majority of sad movie endings involve character death."

"Are we back to this?"

"Yes, your deflection was unsuccessful."

"I never said it was a _sad_ movie."

"Is there character death?"

"It's...not relevant."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there _is _some death. It's just not relevant."

"You said it wasn't meant to be a sad movie. What was it _supposed_ to be?"

"Somewhere between action-adventure and horror."

"You got choked up over a horror movie?"

"I refuse to believe that would surprise you."

"…"

"Give it up. You'll never figure it out."

"Have I seen this movie?"

"Maybe."

"Do you _think_ I've seen this movie?"

"I don't know. What's your threshold for gore?"

"I don't have one."

"Then probably not."

"Do you own a copy of this movie?"

"I used to have it on VHS. I loaned it to a friend of Stacy's and never got it back."

"Did _Stacy_ like this movie?"

"No, she hated it."

"Huh."

"Ready to give up now?"

"Nope."

"It's only a matter of time."

"Let me think...horror movies that you've mentioned. Amityville?"

"No."

"Halloween?"

"Nope."

"Friday The Thirteenth?"

"No."

"Nightmare on Elm Street?"

"No."

"The Exorcist?"

"No."

"What about the classics...Boris Karloff or Lon Chaney?"

"It's not recent. But it's definitely more recent than that."

"What about something by Stephen King...Cujo, Christine, The Shining?"

"Nope."

"Can you tell me who was in it?"

"Now that would just give it away."

"What year was it released?"

"That would also give it away."

"How about a general time frame?"

"The twentieth century."

"Slightly less general."

"The second half of the twentieth century."

"Come on, House. Give me something to work with."

"I already did."

"Right. You said you had it on VHS, which means it was probably released between seventy-five and ninety."

"..."

"And you said it was gory and there was death. But you also said it was action-adventure. So what else came out around that time that could qualify as both horror _and_ action-adventure?"

"_Now_ are you ready to give up?"

"Nope."

"..."

"The only other thing I can think of that was released in the seventies and could be classified as both horror and action-adventure is JAWS. But it couldn't be that."

"..."

"Or is it?"

"..."

"That's _it_, isn't it?"

"I refuse to confirm or deny."

"I have no idea what part of that movie could have possibly have moved you to tears."

"And you never will."

"But...it doesn't add up."

"What doesn't?"

"Lots of people died in that movie."

"So?"

"So you said the death was irrelevant."

"No...I said_ their _deaths were irrelevant."

"Meaning?"

"That obviously, something else died."

"Some _thing_?"

"..."

"What the hell else would be...oh my God. You mean the shark?"

"..."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"And you wonder why I didn't want to tell you."

"..."

"It wasn't necessary to kill it. They should have found some way to relocate it, instead of blowing it up from the inside."

"They actually blew it up?"

"The sheriff shoved a pressurized oxygen tank into its mouth."

"The sheriff...was that Richard Dreyfus or Roy Scheider?"

"Roy Scheider. Anyway...he shoved the oxygen tank into the shark's mouth and shot at it, until it exploded. There was a huge fountain of blood...shark confetti everywhere. Then he laughed about it, sadistic bastard. Now_ that's _a tragedy."

"I cannot think of a suitable response for what you just shared."

"I guess I should derive some comfort from the fact that, thanks to Myth Busters, we now know that it would be physically impossible to blow up a shark, by firing bullets at an oxygen tank."

"How would they even determine something like that?"

"By reenacting it."

"So...would this be the same shark that mutilated a bunch of innocent people who were on vacation?"

"It wasn't doing anything that it wasn't physiologically designed to do."

"You're saying it's okay for a shark to attack and consume a human being?"

"I'm saying that like any other organism, it needs to eat. It didn't choose to be a shark...therefore it shouldn't be held responsible for its position in the food chain."

"That_ almost _makes sense."

"And speaking of the food chain. It's almost five o'clock. What do you want to do about dinner?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously?"

"It's been over eight hours since I ate those waffles of yours and I_ still _feel full."

"I'm not surprised. I think that's the most food I've ever seen you eat in one sitting. Your digestive system probably doesn't know what the hell to do with it."

"Ha ha."

"And naturally you'll be jogging a few extra miles tomorrow in order to compensate for all of those unnecessary calories."

"Laugh all you want. I've gained five pounds since you moved in."

"Funny...Wilson said the exact same thing."

"..."

"Just between you and me, I think it all went to his chin."

"..."

"If you gain more weight, will your boobs get bigger?"

"It's very possible."

"Then I don't see the problem."

"You're not the one who has to lug them around all day."

"True."

"So what's going on with you two anyway?"

"Who?"

"You and Wilson."

"Absolutely nothing."

"Are you guys just going to ignore each other for the rest of your lives?"

"I think he was pretty much doing that already."

"I get that he's dumped on you, over the past few years. But do you seriously think the solution is to just sever him from your life altogether?"

"Yes."

"That's going to be tough to maintain, what with him working fifty feet away from you."

"It's actually thirty-seven feet and it doesn't seem to have been a problem so far."

"You haven't spoken to him at all?"

"I've passed him the lobby a few times."

"And neither of you said anything?"

"He waved. I waved."

"That's it?"

"He took a referral from me."

"When?"

"Uh...nine days ago."

"You delivered it in person?"

"I actually emailed it to him."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Okay with _what_?"

"This...seems like something that would ordinarily bother you."

"Ordinarily it probably would."

"But it isn't?"

"Nope."

"..."

"I don't know how to explain it."

"Explain what?"

"It's like...being sober, you know? The haze is gone."

"What haze?"

"The _Wilson_ haze. I've been detoxed of it for the first time in years, and suddenly...life makes sense again."

"..."

"I finally realized that nothing can ever change between us because _he_ will never change."

"_You_ changed."

"Because I wanted to. Wilson doesn't even realize he needs changing."

"I don't know if I agree with that. I think he knows he needs to change, but the idea of actually doing so terrifies him."

"For which he compensates with willful ignorance. Same difference."

"..."

"Let's just say I did decide to start talking to him again. I already know exactly how it would go. He'd be _really _nice for about a month and then slowly...everything would go right back to however it was before. It's like a frog in a pot of water, totally unaware that it's slowly boiling to death."

"..."

"I'm not backing down, not this time. I'm not going out of my way to accommodate his shortcomings, just to give him further opportunity to criticize mine. If I actually thought it were possible for Wilson to grasp the concept that he really doesn't know what's best for everyone else on the planet, I might consider it. But I've finally come to accept it...the gap between Wilson and self awareness is probably never going to be bridged."

"I don't think you're being rational."

"But he _is_?"

"..."

"Oh, I forgot. It's okay for _him_ to burn bridges on extremely short notice, for no good reason. But I can't. He doesn't have to explain himself, his decisions, or his behavior. But I do. Why...because he's cuter...because he's more polite...because he wears a tie?"

"Hey...I told _him_ the very same thing I'm telling you now."

"And he still left."

"But he came back."

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do."

"..."

"And he is _not_ cuter. He just thinks he is."

"I'm pretty sure you're biased."

"Would it help if you just took a few swings at him?"

"That piñata doesn't have any candy in it. I already checked."

"I'll support whatever it is that you decide to do. I'd just feel better about doing so, if I understood your reasoning."

"I already told you...no candy."

"Fine. If you don't want to be serious, I can't make you."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You could start by telling me how you feel."

"You already know how I feel."

"That doesn't mean it wouldn't help you to verbalize it."

"My therapist says I'm _mourning_."

"Mourning what?"

"That relationship."

"But that's a choice that you're making. It's not out of your control."

"Yeah."

"..."

"There's just...no room for him in my life anymore."

"You could always _make_ room."

"That would be like rearranging all of my furniture, in order to make space for a couch that I don't even want...or more specifically, a couch that I distinctly remember leaving on the curb, to be picked up with the trash."

"It's possible that, at some point, you'll remember just how comfortable that couch used to be and you'll want it back."

"You know what? I _used _to believe that. For a long time, I believed that. Then I realized that there are _plenty_ of other couches out there, some of which are every bit as comfortable as that one, except not nearly as critical or self involved."

"Uh huh."

"You think I'm being unreasonable."

"Yes, I do. But that's your right."

"Did you know that Wilson actually paid my team to spend time with me?"

"When?"

"Back when he first started dating Sam."

"No, I didn't know that."

"The sad thing is, I didn't even care. _That's _how bored and lonely I was. I tried not to think about what their motives might have been. I tried to just…enjoy myself."

"Did you?"

"I guess I had a decent time. I just…the whole time we were hanging out, I couldn't look at any of them without thinking…they had to be paid just to show up, because spending time with me is something for which someone needs to be compensated."

"..."

"But it makes sense."

"What makes sense?"

"I was a mistake."

"What does that mean?"

"Look...I want to make it clear that what I'm about to tell you, only a handful of people know."

"Okay."

"And that's exactly how I'd like to keep it."

"House, you can trust me."

"Are you sure? Because for a while there, it seemed like you'd made a pastime out of betraying my confidence."

"Whatever your secret is, it's safe with me."

"I was a mistake."

"So you said. I still don't understand what you mean by that."

"I mean...starting from the moment of conception."

"You were the result of an unplanned pregnancy?"

"..."

"House...the majority of the people on the planet are the result of an unplanned pregnancy."

"_Unplanned_ is probably too tame a word."

"..."

"My father…deployed right after he married my mom. It was in mid August, nineteen fifty-eight."

"How does that equate to you being a mistake?"

"I was conceived in late September. Do the math."

"He's...you mean your dad's not your dad?"

"Nope."

"You're sure?"

"I wasn't for a long time. I didn't get confirmation until after his funeral."

"Confirmation?"

"I got a DNA sample, ran a paternity test."

"Wow."

"Could you imagine coming home to that? _Hey guess what honey…while you were off training to defend our nation, I got pregnant with someone else's kid. Here...have a slab of meatloaf_."

"He couldn't have been _too_ upset about it, or he wouldn't have stayed with your mom for fifty-something years."

"My dad was obsessed with doing the _right_ thing."

"So?"

"So a decent man doesn't abandon his wife."

"A decent wife doesn't cheat on her husband."

"True."

"Who was the guy?"

"You mean my _real_ father? He was a friend of the family's...someone my mom dated briefly, before meeting my dad."

"Is he still alive?"

"As far as I know."

"How old is he?"

"About seventy-four."

"What does he do for a living?"

"Funny you should ask that."

"Why?"

"Because it lends new meaning to the word_ ironic_."

"He's a doctor too?"

"I said _ironic_."

"..."

"He published a book a few years ago."

"Fiction or non?"

"I guess that depends on your spiritual beliefs."

"What exactly does he do?"

"He's a minister."

"Seriously?"

"He also does missionary work."

"Does he have a family?"

"He's married and has a daughter. She's...in her early thirties."

"So you have a half-sister?"

"No...she was adopted from Peru or Bolivia or something."

"Does he realize that you're his son?"

"Nope. My parents apparently opted to lie about the date of my birth. The majority of their friends and family were hundreds, and in some cases thousands of miles away. They told everyone I was born at the end of April, instead of the middle of June. I was eleven years old before I realized that my birthday was actually in June."

"That must have been strange. How did you figure it out?"

"I found a copy of my birth certificate."

"But your parents stayed together, right? Your dad must have cared. He could have left, could have refused to raise you as his own."

"I already told you, he was obsessed with doing the right thing."

"..."

"It was clear that he resented me, from the start. He never even tried to hide it. Not that I blame him or anything. But I didn't ask to be born."

"And you think that this somehow explains why your team would require monetary compensation, in exchange for spending time with you."

"I realize that I'm projecting and I know this probably sounds really stupid. But it feels like the fact that I was never meant to be...has been following me around my entire life."

"You _really_ do think you were a mistake."

"It would explain a lot."

"You're fairly abrasive, you have a tendency to say completely inappropriate things. You have very little respect for rules or boundaries of any sort, and you can be a total ass. But you are most definitely _not_ a mistake."

"And what exactly are you basing that on?"

"I don't know. It's not particularly scientific. It's just a feeling. But I don't think I could picture the world without you in it."

"..."

"And all of those patients whose lives you've saved, not to mention their friends and family...I seriously doubt even one of them considers you to be a _mistake_."

"..."

"And whether you want to believe it or not, I doubt your team considers you to be a mistake either."

"..."

"Just because your parents weren't expecting you, that doesn't mean you weren't _meant to be_, House."

"I really wish I could believe that."

"So do I."


	15. Chapter 15

_Despite how it might seem, I promise you have no idea where I'm going with this._

* * *

**Chapter 15**

"How was your day?"

"..."

"What? I can't ask how your day was?"

"Of course you_ can_. You just usually don't. Not because you don't care, but because you know how much I hate conversations that don't have a point."

"Then this conversation must have a point."

"We live together, shower together and sleep in the same bed. If you're utilizing small talk, that means that you're nervous...or that there's something else you'd rather be discussing, but you either can't or won't."

"I'm not _nervous_."

"Then there must be something else you'd rather be discussing."

"Why are you home so early?"

"Brilliant deflection. The patient's been diagnosed. He's currently in surgery, after which he will be undergoing treatment."

"Treatment for what?"

"You wouldn't believe me, if I told you."

"Try me."

"About three months ago, at Hamilton Hospital in Trenton, a forty-seven year old male underwent routine gallstone surgery. He was exhibiting symptoms of a system-wide infection. But aside from his white count being elevated, the labs were fairly inconclusive. The CT was inconclusive. Everything was inconclusive. It wasn't until after the exploratory laparotomy, that we finally discovered the source of the problem."

"..."

"Some member of the surgical team left a strip of gauze behind, in the peritoneal cavity."

"The body attacks any foreign object, thus explaining the inflammatory response."

"Exactly."

"And it didn't show up on the CT, because the gauze was the same density as the surrounding tissue."

"Some unlucky doctor is about to be the target of a multi-million dollar lawsuit."

"What's the prognosis?"

"Depends on whether or not we caught the sepsis in time. The odds really aren't good. At this stage, only about thirty percent of patients respond to treatment."

"..."

"You know...you don't have to beat around the bush with me."

"What do you mean?"

"That I value frankness and directness over tact and discretion."

"..."

"You obviously have something you need to say...and for some reason, you're either incapable or unwilling to do so.

"..."

"Whatever it is, wouldn't it be simpler to just say it and get it over with?"

"..."

"Or not. Whatever works for you."

"I spoke to Foreman the other night."

"On purpose?"

"He called me."

"To do what, tattle?"

"Why would you assume that?"

"Because anything else would imply personal interest and he's wanted my job since the very second we met."

"Technically I'm not his boss anymore. So kissing my ass would be rather pointless."

"Trust me. He's puckering up in advance for the inevitability of your return."

"He said he had nothing to report."

"Was he supposed to?"

"Before I went on my leave, I asked him to call me once a week..."

"To let you know if I do anything dangerous or stupid."

"Yes."

"And he couldn't come up with anything?"

"Apparently not."

"I think I'm offended."

"..."

"But let me get this straight. He called just to tell you that he had nothing to tell you?"

"Not _just_."

"..."

"He said your most recent patient went into cardiac arrest Thursday morning, and that he tried to get a hold of you, but you weren't answering your phone."

"I was working in the clinic."

"I know that."

"We're supposed to turn our phones off, when we're working in the clinic."

"I know that, House. I wasn't accusing you of anything. I'm just repeating what I was told."

"Right."

"Since your phone wasn't on, Foreman had to track you down on foot."

"Poor thing."

"He said he found you in the clinic, examining some eight year old boy with otitis media."

"Mmm hmm...seems like it was only two days ago."

"..."

"Oh wait, it _was_ two days ago."

"He noticed that you were having trouble getting a good look at the boy's ears, because he refused to sit still. He kept squirming and trying to pry the otoscope out of your hand."

"It wasn't his fault."

"Who?"

"The kid."

"..."

"He was a moderate to severe, non-verbal autistic. His method of relating to his environment is...touching everything, smelling it, putting it into his mouth. Trying to physically overpower him or attempting to communicate with him verbally would have been a waste of time and energy."

"So instead of fighting with the kid, you just let him have the otoscope and grabbed a new one for yourself."

"I gave him the scope because I knew that once he was granted the ability to satisfy his own curiosity, he'd lose interest in whatever I was doing."

"Evidenced by the fact that you completed the exam, with no problems whatsoever."

"Yes."

"..."

"And why Foreman felt compelled to share that particular information with you is beyond me."

"He seemed to think that it would interest me."

"Did it?"

"Yes."

"..."

"He also said that the mother appeared to be rather impressed. In eight years, you were the first doctor that her son readily cooperated with."

"Yeah...she mentioned something to that effect."

"Granted that I'm just basing this on my own limited observation. But...I think you have a way with kids."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"What I mean is...I don't have a way with them. _They_ have a way with me."

"..."

"Kids have nothing to hide, for the most part. Their agendas are obvious and simple. And if they _do_ have something to hide, they're far too transparent to do so successfully."

"…"

"Deception is a learned behavior. We're not born with the desire to conceal the truth or to mislead others. That's something that happens over time, a response to our environment and our peers. With kids…there's no wading through layers of crap, just to get to what's real. Their motives are simple and justified...and they have no reason to be anything other than exactly what they are."

"I never thought of it that way."

"..."

"The reason I brought this up is...there's something I wanted to ask you."

"Since when do you bother announcing that in advance?"

"..."

"I take it this a serious question, not something trivial like whether I want sweet relish or dill relish on my hot dog."

"Correct."

"So...have we finally arrived at the _point_ of this conversation?"

"Not yet."

"..."

"I was just wondering if...you'd ever considered going into pediatrics."

"Why would you ask me that?"

"I'm...just curious."

"What, because of the kid in the clinic?"

"..."

"There are only two people on the planet who know the answer to that question, and one of them is me."

"And who's the other?"

"My academic advisor at Hopkins."

"..."

"Of course, he was pretty decrepit at the time. So I seriously doubt he's still alive."

"..."

"When I was an undergrad, I got a part time job in this dialysis clinic a few blocks from campus. The majority of the patients were children under the age of twelve, eagerly awaiting a kidney transplant. Most of them died, before a donor could be found. But I was fascinated by their response to their prognosis. They knew they were dying...yet they carried on as usual. You'd never have guessed, from observing them, that they were a matter of weeks or months from their death."

"..."

"Anyway...the doctor I was working for said what you just said."

"What?"

"_You have a way with kids_."

"What was it that prompted him to make such a statement?"

"God, I don't remember. Something trivial. I didn't really think too much about it at the time."

"..."

"But to answer your question, yes. I was originally planning on pursuing a specialty in pediatric nephrology."

"What was it that changed your mind?"

"I came to the realization that wherever there were kids, there were also likely to be parents."

"You made a similar observation when you were telling me about the NICU rotation you did in Michigan."

"I did?"

"I gather that you don't like dealing with parents all that much."

"Not particularly."

"Why?"

"Because they get in the way, sometimes to such a degree that they compromise their own child's diagnosis or treatment. The nature of their involvement pretty much guarantees a total lack of objectivity. Their decisions are entirely emotion based, often disregarding logic altogether. Due to their conflict of interest, more often than not, they're an obstacle. Rarely are they an asset."

"How would you feel about _being_ one?"

"_Being one _what?"

"A parent."

"I don't want to be a downer. But you and I have only lived together for a couple of months."

"So?"

"So...even if I continue to live here for the next ten or twenty years, it's rather unlikely that Rachel will ever think of me as a _parent_."

"First of all, I couldn't disagree more and second of all, I never said I was talking about Rachel."

"What...you're thinking of adopting another child?"

"Not...exactly."

"..."

"I want to try again, House."

"Try what again?"

"The IVF."

"..."

"You're speechless. Is that good or bad?"

"..."

"Okay...now I _am_ starting to get nervous."

"Um...I'm going to be as mature about this as I possibly can, which I realize isn't saying much. I'm making the effort, because I respect what a touchy subject this probably is for you."

"I appreciate that."

"I get how this could seem like a really good idea, romantically speaking. But there are some things you appear to be overlooking."

"Like what?"

"First of all, there's the age factor."

"Mine or yours?"

"Both."

"..."

"Trying to have a baby after the age of forty, you're quadrupling the chances that there will be something wrong with it. And with_ my _medical history, even if we did manage to have a kid together, there's a good chance that I could be dead before it graduates from high school."

"..."

"Then there's the fact that you have no medical explanation for your most recent pregnancy. You have no reason to believe you could become pregnant again, or that even if you do manage to do so, that the embryo wouldn't self abort within eight or nine weeks of conception. This isn't the sort of thing you conquer with determination and a positive attitude. This is purely physiological."

"..."

"I'm not a woman, so I can only speculate what it might be like to experience an actual miscarriage. But based on my observation, I would say that just having _one_ would probably be traumatic. You've had seven now. Are you strong enough to go through that again? Are you strong enough to withstand that kind of disappointment?"

"I think there's something that _you're_ overlooking."

"Which is?"

"Those first six miscarriages…nobody knew about them, besides my doctor. I didn't even tell my mother. I mentioned them to Wilson briefly. But I never really discussed it at length with anyone. I was determined to do it all alone."

"What's your point?"

"I'm not alone anymore."

"..."

"Look...I'm not trying to put you on the spot. You don't have to give me a definite answer, at least not right this very second. But considering what I've just shared, I think I'm entitled to some sort of feedback."

"Chase wants to take Cameron to Australia, for two weeks."

"Perhaps I should have been more specific. I meant _relevant_ feedback."

"It's relevant."

"Okay."

"This is part of his big plan to win her back. Between the cost of airfare, a rental car, and a hotel room, he's going to be dropping about ten thousand dollars."

"Does he _have_ ten thousand dollars?"

"No. He's probably still making payments on both the wedding and Cameron's ring. Which she kept, by the way. That just seems wrong to me, for some reason. But anyway...he's been working four hour shifts in the ER...on call, per diem, whenever we don't have a patient or whenever his physical presence isn't required."

"Nice of you to let him do that."

"I have my moments. Anyway...this morning Taub did a fine needle aspiration on our patient, back when we still thought he might have cancer. We spent several hours just sitting around, waiting on the cytology report. Chase got a call around nine o'clock, and asked if he could leave. There was nothing going on really, so I told him to go ahead, that I'd page him if he was needed."

"Did you end up paging him?"

"No...but about an hour into his shift, he paged me."

"For what?"

"To come down, and take a look at some kid."

"…"

"This eleven month old baby girl…she wouldn't stop crying. _Inconsolable_ doesn't even begin to describe it. It was clear by the sound of it, that she was in some kind of severe physical pain. Not only that, but she'd been projectile vomiting and her core temp was a hundred and four."

"Meningitis?"

"That was my initial guess as well. We prepped her for an LP…but right about that time, three critical patients arrived via ambulance. The brakes went out on some UPS driver's truck and he hit a minivan that held a mom and her five kids. Chase had to go deal with that, and I was already there. So I said I'd go ahead and do the LP."

"…"

"It took four people to hold the kid still, so we could do the tap. The ICP was thirty and rising. Meanwhile, the kid was still screaming. Before I had a chance to discuss treatment options with the parents, she started seizing. After that, she lost consciousness."

"..."

"We coded her for about forty minutes."

"She died?"

"She had a stroke."

"Did you figure out what it was that caused it?"

"The stroke was caused by hydrocephalus. The hydrocephalus was caused by craniosynostosis."

"Craniosynostosis?"

"It's a birth defect."

"Cranio...I'm assuming that's some kind of malformation of the skull?"

"Typically infants with craniosynostosis have no fontanelles to speak of. The skull is either fused together, giving the brain no space to expand or there are large sections of the skull that are mishapen or missing. If it's diagnosed early enough, depending on the extent of the damage, reconstructive surgery can be done."

"..."

"Anyway...like I said, the ICP just kept rising. If we'd known sooner, we could have operated, created artificial sutures, inserted a shunt, and drained the excess CSF…"

"You're upset about this."

"I'm not _upset."_

"You're definitely something."

"This was completely avoidable. The craniosynostosis _should_ have been diagnosed sooner."

"Why wasn't it?"

"Because the patient only had one obvious symptom...convulsions."

"And the parents didn't think that was a serious enough to warrant medical attention?"

"They assumed the seizures were febrile."

"Why would they assume that?"

"Apparently their older child had a history of febrile seizures."

"They volunteered that information?"

"Yes."

"Before or after the patient died?"

"Before."

"Did you note that in the chart?"

"Chase did."

"Did anyone hear them say it besides you?"

"Several nurses were also present."

"Then you're in the clear, legally speaking."

"Yeah…that was my main concern. Screw the baby with the exploding head. What about my malpractice premiums?"

"Wow."

"What?"

"You...care."

"..."

"You've seen a lot of sickness and death, House. Why is it suddenly affecting you?"

"Well...it probably didn't help that the mother was hysterical. The kid had already been down for half an hour. She wanted us to keep going. But we'd maxxed out on the atropine and even if we hadn't, she'd already gone into asystole. I tried to explain this to the mother. But she appeared to be in denial. When I told her I was going to stop doing compressions, she managed to stop sobbing long enough to let me know that she hopes I die a slow, painful death."

"How did you reply?"

"I told her that's what life is…a slow, painful death."

"..."

"She was cute, you know?"

"The mom?"

"No, the kid."

"..."

"I mean, most babies are...to some extent. But not all. I've seen some ugly babies."

"..."

"This one...she had curly, brown hair and big, blue eyes, the kind of baby you'd see in department store catalogues or diaper commercials."

"..."

"I don't know if it was the resemblance factor, or if it was just something completely random. The second I _saw_ the kid, and heard her screaming in what I can only assume was something akin to agony, all I could think was...that could be Rachel."

"..."

"And it was like some kind of sensory overload...there are so many things that could happen to her, things that can't be foreseen or prevented, things that can't be fixed."

"..."

"I just don't understand why someone would go out of their way to subject themselves to that."

"To what?"

"Caring."

"..."

"Why create something that you could lose at any given moment? Why set yourself up for the devastation?"

"Because as human beings, loving another person is probably the greatest joy we will ever have the privilege to experience. I realize that my perspective probably differs greatly from your own. But I think it's well worth the risk."

"I'm not sure that I agree."

"I take it that's your roundabout way of saying _no_?"

"No."

"..."

"I don't know."

"..."

"This isn't the kind of question I can answer immediately. I mean...I'm going to need some time to think about it, before I can give you a definite answer."

"..."

"And I feel obligated to point out that, whether you intended to or not, you've put me in a rather awkward position."

"How so?"

"I feel like my response has the potential to either make or break our relationship."

"I promise I won't hold it against you, if you should decline."

"It's easy for you to say that now. But you have no idea what you're actually going to be feeling, when and if that time comes."

"House, I'm serious. That's the last thing I want. If by some chance you do say_ yes..._I don't want it to be fueled by a fear of abandonment."

"Pretty much everything I do is fueled by a fear of abandonment."

"That would be a whole lot funnier if it wasn't true."

"No kidding."

"So you just need time to think about it? Is that it?"

"Yes."

"How much time?"

"I honestly don't know."

"..."

"How much time were you planning on giving me?"

"Let's say...between three and five days."

"That's...not enough time."

"What did _you_ have in mind?"

"Two weeks at least."

"Would you settle for one?"

"What are we, bargaining here?"

"Something like that."

"I'm going to need more than a week."

"Why?"

"..."

"You want to have a chance to talk to your therapist."

"Does that bother you?"

"No. I think it's good."

"..."

"When's your next appointment?"

"Saturday morning."

"How about ten days? Is that enough time?"

"Yeah...I guess that would be alright."

"..."

"I do have one condition, though."

"What is it?"

"I don't want to hear about it until then."

"Hear about what?"

"I mean, don't mention the subject to me, until those ten days are up. Don't hassle me. Don't drop hints. Don't make any attempts to bribe me, and don't ask me how it's coming along. Just...let me think about it."

"..."

"And I'm not making any promises. But it stands to reason that I'd be much more likely to accept your proposal, if you were to honor my conditions."

"Makes sense."

"..."

"Ten days seems like a long time."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll just fly by."


	16. Chapter 16

_House discusses Cuddy's proposition with Nolan._

* * *

****

Chapter 16

"She wants to try again."

"She...I'm assuming you mean Cuddy?"

"Yes."

"Try again to do _what_?"

"To get pregnant."

"..."

"She gave me ten days to decide."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"How do I _feel _about that?"

"..."

"My girlfriend just asked me if I'd like to help her create a brand new human being, completely from scratch, and you don't even have the decency to act...shocked?"

"There's nothing shocking about what you just shared with me, Greg."

"..."

"When you told me about her history of miscarriages, I anticipated this as a possibility."

"Any particular reason why you didn't feel the need to share that little tidbit of information?"

"I could have been wrong. I didn't want to alarm you or inadvertently encourage what may have later proven to be unnecessary speculation."

"..."

"How many more days do you have until you have to give her an answer?"

"Four."

"What are you planning to tell her?"

"I don't know. I was kind of hoping you'd help me figure that out."

"What do you _want_ to tell her?"

"I already told you...I don't know."

"..."

"But I get the feeling that, if I _were_ to say no, the threads of our relationship would unravel rather quickly."

"So you fear that if you don't give her the response she's hoping for, you will become expendable."

"..."

"Have you pointed that out to her?"

"Not with those exact words, but yes."

"And how did she react?"

"She said that my decision wouldn't affect our relationship."

"And you think she's lying?"

"No…I just think that her intentions are irrelevant. Whatever happens, it will inevitably be out of her control."

"It sounds like your position on this matter is at least partially fueled by your fear of abandonment."

"..."

"Do you _want_ to say no?"

"I don't_ want _to say anything."

"That's completely understandable. But you have several options and unfortunately, that isn't one of them."

"..."

"So you have a decision to make."

"..."

"Well…we could try breaking it down to pros and cons."

"That should be easy enough. I can't think of any pros."

"If that were true, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. You wouldn't waste ten days stressing out about it. You'd have just told her _no_ from the start."

"..."

"But let's go ahead and discuss the cons."

"…"

"What is your immediate concern…the first explanation that you would offer her, if you were planning to decline this proposition?"

"I'm fifty-one."

"How does your age specifically pose a problem?"

"I'm not in great health. Chances are, I wouldn't live long enough to see this kid grow up. Even if I lived to be eighty, which I seriously doubt, they'd still be under the age of thirty when I passed away."

"And why is that an issue?"

"..."

"Everyone is mortal. Any of us could go at any time. Should we live in constant fear? Should we rearrange our lives to accommodate that possibility?"

"You're missing the point."

"I must be."

"..."

"Let me ask you this. If you were thirty-one and not fifty-one, would that make a difference?"

"What do you mean?"

"Let's say that the circumstances were exactly as they are now, except you were both twenty years younger."

"Sure, I guess. I mean, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think that having a kid might be kind of...neat. I just don't think that's reason enough to do so."

"_Neat_...do you mean having a child with Cuddy or just having a child in general?"

"Both."

"I've known you for over a year now and I cannot recall you ever utilizing the word _neat_ to describe something."

"It was a random choice. Don't read too much into it."

"You don't make _random choices_."

"..."

"You knew exactly what you meant, when you said it."

"..."

"And that word is fairly ambiguous. It can mean a lot of different things. So naturally I'm curious as to what your interpretation might be."

"..."

"Can you compare it to something?"

"Like what?"

"Like...something else that you thought was _neat_."

"Uh...when I was nine, my grandfather gave me a rock tumbler and some Sea Monkeys for Christmas. That was pretty neat."

"I see."

"..."

"Based solely on your own personal definition of the word _neat_, what would you consider to be an appropriate synonym?"

"Groovy? Cool? Nifty? I don't know."

"So what was _cool_ about getting a rock tumbler?"

"It was...interesting."

"Would it be safe to say that even at the age of nine, you required a certain degree of intellectual stimulation?"

"Yes."

"I've noticed that your appreciation of things depends very much on their entertainment value. Do you think that would apply here?"

"Probably."

"You still haven't told me what you think would be _neat_ about having a child."

"That's because I don't know."

"Come on, Greg. You wouldn't have said it, if you didn't know. Chances are you had something very specific on your mind when you made that statement."

"I had lots of things on my mind when I made that statement."

"So pick one."

"Conceiving children is the closest we'll ever come to being gods."

"Explain that to me."

"If we wanted to, she and I could just create a person out of nothing, someone who would exist only because _we_ decided to bring them into this world."

"And why is that a problem?"

"When you have a kid, there's a very good chance that they will end up looking, acting and thinking similarly to the way that you do."

"That's true, for the most part."

"Why the hell would I create someone who might end up being like me, when _I_ don't even want to be like me?"

"What you're basically saying that you think it would be a mistake to create another human being who might have anything in common with you."

"Correct."

"And what about your overall intelligence, your intellectual gifts, your musical talents and professional accomplishments? Are those things are just meaningless?"

"..."

"I only met her the one time. But Dr. Cuddy struck me as being of above average intelligence."

"So?"

"So...she's probably considered these things already."

"..."

"How familiar is she with your medical history?"

"Very."

"Then she obviously she doesn't think there's anything wrong with your age _or_ your DNA."

"She's not exactly picky about where she gets her sperm."

"Why would you say that?"

"She spent several years attempting to conceive, exploiting a series of totally anonymous donors."

"So?"

"You don't just decide on a whim to create another human being."

"You think she's doing this on a whim?"

"..."

"You just said she tried for several years to get pregnant. That doesn't sounds like a _whim_ to me."

"Okay...but even if it's_ not _a whim, this isn't like getting a puppy or a kitten or buying a red convertible. It's…a lifetime of responsibility."

"So you think she doesn't really grasp what an enormous commitment it is to have a child?"

"..."

"How old is Rachel?"

"Almost two."

"You've said on several occasions that you think Cuddy is doing a good job raising her daughter, that you even went out of your way to let her know that. Do you no longer hold that opinion?"

"It's not the same thing."

"As what, having a child biologically?"

"..."

"Despite what you'd prefer to believe, it's definitely possible that Rachel might one day look at you as a parent or guardian of some sort. And you're okay with that, to some extent, because you know you're not bound by any sort of obligation. Your presence in her life is optional. It's something that you're choosing to do...because you have the luxury of knowing that you can walk away from her whenever you want."

"..."

"But if you were to go through with this, if you and Cuddy had a child together, due to the nature of your legal and personal involvement...you _would_ be obligated. You'd be forever bound to it, whether you liked it or not."

"..."

"Deep down, you know that she knows_ exactly_ what it is she's asking of you. You just can't accept it. It scares you that with all the options available to her, she would still choose _you_ to father her child. Because you know that having a child together not only implies a long term connection, it implies that she's willing to be _bound to you_ for the rest of her life."

"..."

"You're not afraid of the commitment of conceiving and raising a child. You're afraid that, were you given the opportunity, you'd find some way to screw it up."

"..."

"You know what I think? I think you _want _to do this."

"No, I don't."

"Uh huh. Is that why you're looking out the window instead of at my face?"

"You want me to look at you while I'm saying it? No problem."

"I think the reason you're here right now is because you trust my judgment and you need me to tell you that it's okay for you to want this. You want me to tell you that you're _not_ too old, that it's _not_ too late for you to try and have a family, that despite your past and your assorted health issues, it's still possible for you to lead a relatively normal life."

"..."

"Right?"

"I was thinking, that even with the drugs, the chances of us conceiving a kid are very slim...like less than five percent. Maybe I should just tell her yes, let her get pregnant and have a few more miscarriages, until she finally realizes that she just wasn't meant to bear children."

"That way she can't pin it on you?"

"…"

"Let's say she does miscarry again. Can you imagine the effect it will have on her? Do you really think that would improve your relationship? I don't. That kind of tragedy can tear even the most mentally healthy and well adjusted couples apart."

"..."

"And what happens if this backfires on you, and she _does_ get pregnant?"

"It's doubtful that the fetus would live for very long."

"But what if he does? What if he makes it to viability? Or what if he's born early and doesn't survive? You think having a miscarriage is traumatic? Try burying an infant."

"That's not going to happen."

"You have no way of knowing that."

"I told you…"

"That the chances are less than five percent. Last I checked, five was more than zero. If there are people who have beat these odds, there no logical reason why you couldn't do the same."

"Well then I don't know what else I'm supposed to be doing."

"Do you love her?"

"This isn't about love."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Yeah...sure."

"Do you love her enough that you'd be willing to make major, life altering compromises, in order to ensure the longevity of your relationship?"

"I don't know."

"..."

"Thing is…I already know that it's not going to be enough."

"What isn't?"

"Let's say she does get pregnant and she has a baby. It's not going to be enough."

"…"

"I mean it probably will be, for a little while. But eventually, the novelty will wear off and the emptiness will return and she'll be back at square one, desperately scrambling to find something else that might fill that void."

"So you're concerned about her motives?"

"..."

"Or maybe it just bothers you that you can't offer her...whatever she thinks it would take to make her happy."

"She has no idea what it would take to make her happy."

"And you think you do?"

"No."

"Have you shared any of these viewpoints with her?"

"Hell, no."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to argue."

"About that particular subject?"

"About _any_ subject."

"Do you argue much?"

"Nope...and that's exactly how I'd like to keep it."

"Conflict is a necessary component of a relationship."

"That doesn't mean that I should go out looking for it."

"..."

"So what happened?"

"What happened with what?"

"You said it would be traumatic, having to bury an infant. It sounded like you were speaking from experience."

"..."

"Or not. What the hell do I know? You expect_ me _to tell you all about..."

"Andromeda."

"What?"

"Our first child, that was her name. My wife used to be a big fan of Greek mythology."

"..."

"Andromeda died of SIDS when she was sixteen days old, although her medical file states that the cause of her of death was unknown. The term SIDS wasn't even coined until nineteen sixty-nine, and we still knew very little about it in nineteen eighty-two. Several decades worth of research later, all we have are a collection of vague theories about cause and prevention."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I believe that the wisdom we glean from our experiences was meant to be shared. If telling someone else about my pain or loss will help them somehow, I think it's worth it."

"..."

"She was sleeping in the bassinet next to my wife's side of the bed. Sometime during the middle of the night, I was torn from my sleep by the sound of screaming. It took me a good thirty seconds to figure out what was going on. We called nine-one-one, of course. But according to the pathologist, by the time the ambulance arrived, the child had already been dead for several hours. There was nothing we could have done to prevent her death. The doctors told us there was no scientific explanation, that every once in a while babies just stop breathing and then they forget to start again."

"Was she full term?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because apnea is common in babies born prior to thirty weeks gestation."

"She definitely wasn't born early. In fact, I want to say that she was several days late."

"And you went on to have more kids, after that?"

"Three."

"Most people wouldn't put themselves into a position to go through that again."

"I don't regret it. In hindsight, I think it was a risk worth taking."

"..."

"So...have you decided what you're going to tell her?"

"I think so."

"Well...let me know how it all turns out."

"Wait a minute."

"What?"

"You're not going to try and coerce me into telling you what it is that I'm planning to say?"

"I assumed that if you wanted me to know, you'd have told me already."

"..."

"Do you want me to know?"

"Not particularly."

"But you'll tell me how it went."

"Yes."

"Okay then. I'll see you next week."


	17. Chapter 17

_I had a hard time with this chapter. I was originally planning to avoid writing it altogether and just skip ahead. But I decided that would be cheesy, and it's a necessary part of the story. So there you are._

_House and Cuddy conversation, ten days after chapter 16._

* * *

****

Chapter 17

"What's this?"

"What does it look like?"

"Half a whole grain bagel, toasted with a slice of tomato, and topped with cottage cheese."

"You forgot _lightly sprinkled with pepper_. And that's low fat cottage cheese, by the way."

"This isn't what you usually make for breakfast."

"I know. It's what _you_ usually make for breakfast."

"Uh...not that I'm complaining, but why am I eating it in bed?"

"Because you can, because it's fun...because you're a grown-up and you can do whatever the hell you want. Take your pick."

"Being a grown-up isn't about doing whatever the hell you want."

"Since when?"

"It's about _knowing_ that you can do whatever the hell you want, and choosing to do the right thing instead. It's about abandoning the misconception that we're entitled to instant gratification."

"That actually sounds like kind of a drag."

"..."

"I'm assuming you know what today is."

"Bastille Day?"

"..."

"Yes, I know what day it is."

"You asked me a question."

"I remember. I was there."

"Then I asked you for ten days to think about it...ten days completely free of influence and discussion."

"And I gave you that."

"Yes, you did."

"..."

"So as entertaining as it would probably be, I thought it would be cruel to torture you by making you wait until dinner for my answer."

"Will I be eating that meal in bed too?"

"You could."

"..."

"We could even make it like a little _John and Yoko _sort of thing. I'll grow a long beard and you can record some music that resembles the sound of someone strangling an alley cat."

"And what would we be protesting?"

"Having to get out of bed."

"A noble cause, I'm sure. But I think I'm going to have to pass on that."

"…"

"Does this mean you have an answer for me?"

"Yes."

"Can I cut right to the chase…or do I need to eat my bagel first?"

"You can cut to the chase."

"Okay."

"..."

"So...yes or no?"

"Neither."

"Wait…what?"

"I said _neither_."

"It's a _yes_ or _no_ question. There is no third option."

"There's going to have to be."

"Why?"

"Because this isn't as simple as just a _yes_ or a _no_."

"House…you either want to father my child or you don't. Which is it?"

"The truth is, I'm still not one hundred percent sure..."

"Are you kidding me? You had _ten days_."

"Are you going to listen or are you going to talk?"

"..."

"It's true that I'm not sure about this. But I also know that I probably never will be."

"..."

"I mean, nobody's one hundred percent sure about everything...and this isn't something I can just do later, if I feel like it. The clock is ticking. It's now or never...and if I spend too much more time mulling it over, I'll probably just end up analyzing it to death or talking myself out of it, or something. Then I'll never know what it would have been like and I'll spend the rest of my life, however long may be, wondering how different things would have been if I'd just been willing to throw caution to the wind and brave the uncharted waters beyond the barriers of my comfort zone."

"Can I talk now?"

"Yes."

"I thought you said you _weren't_ sure."

"I'm not."

"But that sounds like a _yes_ to me."

"It _is_…sort of."

"What are you trying to say?"

"That the answer is _yes_...but only under some very specific circumstances."

"So what are the circumstances?"

"I'll tell you in a minute."

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"Because there's something that I think we need to address first."

"Oh really?"

"I know this is probably going to sound strange, especially coming from me. But I think it would be better if ironed out this one little wrinkle, before we do...whatever it is we end up doing."

"So what is it that you think we need to address?"

"Rachel."

"What about her?"

"I think it's safe to say that she was a compromise."

"A _compromise?"_

"I don't mean that in a negative way. I just mean…as much as you'd like to romanticize it, there's no denying that your original goal was to produce your own _biological _offspring. Only when you suspected that might not be possible, did you choose to adopt."

"That's...true."

"Your wanting to try again, what exactly is that a reflection of?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question."

"I'm not trying to upset you...and I'm not accusing you of anything. I just...need to know."

"Need to know what?"

"Is it possible that your wanting to have a second child is a reflection of your lack of satisfaction with the first...even if it's only to a very slight degree?"

"Given the circumstances, what I know about your thought processes and unique perspective of humanity, that's not an unreasonable conclusion to draw."

"..."

"But the answer is no. This has nothing to do with Rachel, or the degree of fulfillment I derive from our relationship."

"You're _absolutely_ sure."

"Yes."

"So...what becomes of her, if your attempts to conceive are successful?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean…will having a second child alter your relationship with the one you've got?"

"Why would it...because one would be biological and the other adopted?"

"I'm sure you wouldn't _want_ to treat them differently. But that doesn't mean you'd succeed. Whatever it is that you end up feeling...will probably be completely out of your control."

"I don't expect it to be an issue."

"I doubt that anyone _expects _it to be an issue."

"When I was growing up, there was a family on my street with eleven kids. The floor plan of their house was identical to ours...three bedrooms and two bathrooms. How they all fit in there, I'll never know. But they did. Anyway...four of the eleven children had been adopted from various foreign countries. As far as I know, the parents exhibited no bias or favoritism...and there appeared to be more than enough love to go around."

"Very touching. But I'm pretty sure that isn't the norm."

"…"

"Look...we can do this. But like I said before, I have some very specific conditions."

"Okay."

"Conditions that you may not like."

"Just tell me what they are."

"If we do this, it's going to have to be _au naturale_."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning…that as far as the conception itself goes, there will be no medical intervention. There will be no drugs, no IVF, no Petri dish or turkey-baster. Just two people having good, old fashioned sexual intercourse. Either sperm will meet egg, or it won't."

"House…that would completely defeat the purpose."

"It's not that I don't..."

"Even with the fertility regimen, my chances of conception are slim. Without it, we might as well not even bother."

"..."

"Not wanting in vitro…that's understandable, I guess. But I'll never be able to conceive without the fertility meds. I mean, this is basically equivalent to saying _no_."

"I'm not saying _no_."

"But you might as well be."

"Has it occurred to you..."

"That I wasn't meant to have children? Yes, for God's sake. That's occurred to me. It's been occurring to me every second of every day for the past ten years."

"..."

"I mean, God House. I feel like I'm going hunting, and you're handing me a gun, but you won't let me put any actual ammunition in it."

"..."

"And now you're sitting here, telling me that I should try and fire it anyway, even though we both know that it isn't loaded."

"No...what I'm telling you is that maybe your gun was never meant to be loaded in the first place, so maybe you should let someone else do the hunting."

"What the hell does _that _mean?"

"Well...that brings me to what's behind curtain number two."

"Let me guess. I'm not going to like it?"

"..."

"Just tell me what it is."

"As a hospital administrator, I'm sure you're well aware that thanks to the _Safe Haven_ law, biological moms can now just walk into any hospital or police station and drop off their newborn infant, no questions asked. By doing so, they immediately relinquish all rights and privileges, as a guardian of that child."

"What's your point?"

"Remember I told you that Chase has been pulling per diem shifts in the ER for the last month or so?"

"Yes."

"He said that this week alone, four newborn babies were dropped off in our ER, all of whom were in perfect health."

"You're saying I should just adopt again?"

"No, I'm saying you _could_ adopt again."

"..."

"I'm just reminding you that you have other options. Because you seem to have forgotten."

"I know exactly what my options are. I don't need to be reminded."

"And yet here you are struggling to make a baby, when you're surrounded by perfectly good babies that have _already_ been made…and apparently have nowhere to go."

"I knew you wouldn't understand. I knew it."

"I understand."

"Obviously not. You just said..."

"I'm not an idiot, Cuddy. I get it. I _get_ the desire to procreate. True that I don't possess that particular drive, at least not to the extent that you do. But I _do_ get it."

"..."

"A few minutes ago, you told me that being an adult was about abandoning the desire for instant gratification, that it's about _knowing_ you can do whatever you want, but choosing to do the right thing instead."

"And _that's_ what you think you're doing...the right thing?"

"You say that you know it's possible, that maybe you're never going to be capable of bearing children. But I don't think you've actually accepted it."

"..."

"Which isn't unreasonable...I doubt many women are in a hurry to embrace their infertility."

"..."

"Look...I can't explain my reasoning, because I don't fully comprehend it myself. I'm not religious. I'm not superstitious. I have absolutely nothing concrete or scientific to base this on. The human body is a complex machine, filled with parts that work together. And when something goes wrong with one of those parts, there's almost always a reason."

"..."

"There's only so much you can do to manipulate your circumstances, physiologically speaking. Something I've learned, as a doctor...If you go screwing with nature, it will not hesitate to screw you right back."

"..."

"And I'm not a woman. But if I were, and I discovered that I was infertile, I would consider the possibility that maybe my body wasn't designed for bearing children...that it might even endanger my health if I attempted to do so."

"..."

"I don't believe in fate, and I know this probably sounds incredibly lame. But I can't help thinking...if this is meant to happen, it will...and if it isn't, it won't."

"You said no _medical _intervention, right?"

"Right."

"So...what about other kinds of intervention?"

"What other kinds of intervention _are_ there?"

"Herbs, vitamins, minerals, acupuncture...keeping track of my cycle, so I know exactly when I'm ovulating, charting my basal body temperature, reducing stress by doing more yoga...and there are a variety of foods that you can eat to increase sperm motility."

"..."

"Come on, House."

"..."

"You're right, okay? I haven't accepted it, not completely...and I'm not sure I ever will. And I know that if it's not meant to happen, it won't...and there's absolutely nothing I can do to change that. But I need you to meet me halfway...please."

"..."

"House, please."

"This isn't negotiable."

"..."

"Let's say...anything you can obtain without a prescription or a medical license is fair game."

"Thank you."

"But I want you to chart it."

"Chart what?"

"Everything...anything you might be doing to your body, in order to facilitate conception. Catalogue the food you eat, the supplements you take, the amount of time you spend exercising, when we have sex...note times, dates and dosages and routes of administration for everything. And include any other information that you think might be relevant."

"Why?"

"Because keeping track of that information will be the only element of this endeavor that's completely under our control."

"Tell me something."

"What?"

"Are you doing this because you want to, or because _I_ want to?"

"Why does it have to be one or the other?"

"I need to know if this is just for me, House."

"Why?"

"Because if it_ is _just for me...it's not going to work."

"I already told you, I'm not sure."

"I don't buy that."

"..."

"I mean, I buy that you're not sure, or at least that you _think _you're not. But you wouldn't be doing this at all if there weren't some tiny part of you that wanted it."

"I think my therapist would agree with your assessment."

"..."

"He seems to think that I subconsciously long to get married, have two and a half kids, buy a dog, a minivan and a condo, and live out the remainder of my days as _Joe Average...middle class suburbanite_."

"Are those things so terrible?"

"I guess not...if that's all you want out of life."

"You want more?"

"I have no idea what I want."

"Do you think he's right about you? Your therapist, I mean."

"Oddly enough, he tends to be."


	18. Chapter 18

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

Disregard the previous note. I had noted that the ratio of page views to actual reviews was like a thousand to one, which for me is not the norm. So douchebag that I am, I assumed that all the people who were reading this just couldn't be bothered reviewing.

NOPE apparently the system is not allowing people to review.

If you can't review, but desperately long to express your thoughts, you can email me: Juliabohemian at AOL dot com. You can also read this story on Live Journal and comment on it there.

_Conversation between House and Chase_

* * *

**Chapter 18**

"Why were you on the freight elevator?"

"Huh?"

"You came up on the freight elevator."

"And you care because?"

"I don't care. I was just going to tell you, it wasn't necessary."

"And why wasn't it necessary?"

"Your pram would have fit on the regular one."

"_Pram?"_

"Or whatever it is Americans call it...carriage...buggy?"

"Stroller."

"Right. I saw a lady with triplets get on the elevator just the other day, and there was still room for four other people to stand."

"Did it occur to you that my decision to take an alternate route was fueled by something else entirely?"

"Like what?"

"Like the fear that I might never get here otherwise."

"What do you mean?"

"The human race has some disturbing obsession with all things small and cute. I couldn't even make it across the lobby, without being intercepted by…what I've come to the conclusion are just walking estrogen storage units."

"Ah."

"..."

"Um...not that I have a problem with it, especially since we technically don't have a case at the moment. But why is she here?"

"It's _Bring Your Girlfriend's Adopted Crack Baby to Work Day_. You didn't get the memo?"

"..."

"Mommy's very sick."

"So you kidnapped her daughter?"

"That would certainly be one way to look at it."

"Does she know you took Rachel to work with you?"

"I'm sure she'll figure it out eventually."

"You're joking."

"Hey, I left her a note. I signed it and everything."

"In blood?"

"..."

"Who normally watches the baby, when you're both at work?"

"The nanny."

"And where is she now?"

"Vacationing in Atlantic City."

"Don't you have some sort of back-up plan?"

"The nanny is MIA. Cuddy's mom isn't picking up her phone, and no one owes me any favors. So at the moment, this_ is_ my back-up plan."

"But you do realize she's going to kill you, right?"

"Who, Cuddy? She doesn't have enough strength to kill me, at least not right now."

"That doesn't mean she won't kill you later...or that her adrenaline won't kick in and take over. Don't you watch National Geographic? What does the female lion do when someone threatens the safety of its young?"

"I'm not _threatening_ anybody's safety. I even took the baby seat out of Cuddy's car and transferred it to my own, and I've got a fully stocked diaper bag. So there."

"I think the concept of endangerment is relative."

"Well fortunately, this particular mama lion is way too busy crouching in front of the toilet and hacking her guts out to worry about her missing cub."

"She's throwing up?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Stomach flu?"

"I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Because her temperature is normal."

"Is it food poisoning?"

"It couldn't be."

"Why not?"

"Because we both ate the exact same thing for dinner last night and I feel fine."

"..."

"Of course, I suppose it's possible that she went down to the kitchen during the middle of the night and treated herself to a few tablespoons of expired mayonnaise."

"Well then, it must be morning sickness."

"..."

"Cuddy told Wilson. Wilson told Foreman. Foreman told me."

"See _this_ is why I generally refrain from having a personal life."

"Oh, like you don't know about all of _our_ private affairs."

"First of all, Foreman doesn't have any private affairs. His life really is _that_ boring. Taub has plenty of affairs, but oddly, none of them are private. Thirteen is gone and, as you may have noticed, I've made no effort to hunt her down and interrogate her about the real reason for her departure."

"Yeah? And what about me?"

"Your one and only _private affair_ moved to Boston a few months ago, and I regret to inform you that you've become substantially less interesting since then."

"..."

"On second thought, I take that back."

"I _haven't_ become less interesting?"

"No you have. I just realized that I don't regret informing you."

"..."

"And there's no point in speculating anyway."

"Speculating about what?"

"About whether or not Cuddy's pregnant."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too soon to tell."

"When will you know for sure?"

"In a couple more days."

"But you _are_ having unprotected sex."

"Is that _really_ any of your business?"

"Nope."

"Yes, if you must know. We are having unprotected sex."

"On purpose?"

"Technically all unprotected sex is on purpose."

"How do you figure?"

"Because the decision about whether or not to utilize birth control is a conscious one."

"So it's not just a rumor then. She's actively _trying_ to get pregnant?"

"..."

"How long have you guys been at this?"

"..."

"Hey...would you prefer that I know what's _really_ going on? Or would you like me to continue making assumptions, based on second hand information?"

"I'm going to go with...none of the above."

"So I take it you're using IVF?"

"Nope."

"But she's on some kind of hormonal regimen, right?"

"Not anymore."

"I thought she was having difficulty conceiving."

"She was."

"So wouldn't forgoing the standard fertility treatment dramatically reduce her odds of becoming pregnant?"

"I'm sure it will."

"..."

"I told her if it was meant to happen, it would happen...and if it wasn't, it wouldn't."

"And she was okay with that?"

"_Okay_ might be too strong a word."

"..."

"I realize that I have limited experience from which to draw, but I believe it's what those who are in committed relationships refer to as a _compromise_."

"..."

"I get the feeling I'm totally going to regret telling you this."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Because I don't have the energy to maintain any sort of secrecy and you'll probably end up finding out one way or another. At least this way you'll be properly informed."

"Alright."

"This will be the third cycle we've attempted."

"So you haven't been at this _that_ long."

"Long enough for me to reach the conclusion that if it doesn't happen this time, it's probably not going to."

"And does she share that particular view?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well...what if she isn't so easily discouraged? What if she still wants to keep trying?"

"Then I guess we'll just keep trying."

"But you just said that since she's yet to become pregnant, and she probably never will."

"Yep."

"And yet you're going to continue trying, despite your belief that failure is pretty much inevitable."

"Yep."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just...intrigued."

"Intrigued by what?"

"That you'd be willing to make that kind of...sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

"For lack of a better term."

"Yes…because having frequent, unprotected sexual intercourse with an attractive woman is _really _daunting task. I'm actually getting worn out, just thinking about it."

"It's not _just_ sex though. I mean, you guys are in love, right?"

"Do I _really_ have to answer that?"

"No. The clean shaven face and goofy grin are evidence enough."

"..."

"So...are you hoping for a boy or a girl?"

"I'm not."

"It's got to be one or the other."

"I understand that. I just meant that I'm not thinking that far ahead."

"Why not?"

"I prefer to maintain low expectations, especially when the outcome is uncertain."

"Technically you just implied that it _wasn't_ uncertain."

"..."

"You said that you'd be willing to keep trying, until she's ready to stop. That alone suggests some degree of selflessness. Clearly you're doing this more for her than you are for yourself...and yet you've denied her the use of fertility meds, knowing that doing so may very well be the one thing that prevents her from bearing any children."

"So?"

"I find it rather contradictory."

"..."

"It seems almost like you went into this, knowing that it was unlikely that she'd succeed in becoming pregnant and that even if she did, she'd probably miscarry within weeks of conception."

"..."

"Is that the only reason you're doing this, because the overall risk and degree of your personal investment are minimal?"

"I'd be lying if I claimed that those things had no influence on me whatsoever. But I wouldn't say that they weren't the driving force behind my decision."

"So what _was_ the driving force behind your decision?"

"I have no idea."

"..."

"The way I see it, if it happens, it happens. But if it doesn't...I won't lose any sleep over it."

"But_ she_ will."

"Exactly."

"So you _are_ doing this for her."

"..."

"Why?"

"Why do people generally do nice things for other people?"

"_Nice things_ are flowers and chocolates. You're volunteering to fertilize her ovum."

"Really...it's just a matter of convenience."

"How so?"

"Well the store was all out of flowers and chocolates. But as luck would have it, I have an endless supply of sperm."

"Granted that I don't have any kids. But from what I understand, they're anything but convenient."

"..."

"This is an act of love."

"You just _had_ to go there."

"Sorry."

"Try not to spread it around, okay? I have a reputation to maintain."

"No problem."

"..."

"Well...for what it's worth, I hope you succeed."

"Why?"

"Because it looks good on you."

"What does?"

"The whole _kid_ thing."

"Yes, they make great accessories."

"I meant...whether you'd be willing to admit it or not, you obviously derive some sort of fulfillment from the time you spend with Rachel."

"..."

"And it's nice."

"What's _nice_?"

"For the first time since we met, you actually seem kind of happy. It's nice to see you enjoying something."

"..."

"What?"

"I'm sure there's a suitable response for what you said to me. I just have no idea what it is."

"Just say_ thank you_."

"Thank you."

"So...tit for tat. You disclosed something personal to me. I suppose it's only fair that I reciprocate."

"There's nothing going on in your personal life that could possibly interest me, at this moment."

"Cameron asked me to get a vasectomy."

"Wait...you mean, just now?"

"No...before we got married."

"Okay...that's moderately interesting. What'd you say?"

"I said _no_...and she let it go. But now that we're working on getting back together, she brings it up a lot."

"How often is _a lot_."

"Like every other conversation."

"I take it the divorce never went through."

"It's been put on hold...temporarily."

"Do you _want_ kids?"

"I don't know. Probably not. I haven't really given it that much thought, to be honest. But I know how quickly that can change. Taking my age into consideration, I'm not sure I'm ready to render myself physiologically incapable of bearing offspring."

"…"

"So what do you think?"

"About what?"

"About Cameron wanting me to get a vasectomy."

"..."

"Should I do it?"

"It's your body. You can do whatever you want with it."

"I'm asking for your opinion."

"..."

"You can be frank with me, House. I can handle it."

"I've actually found that when people say that, they rarely mean it."

"I can't speak for anyone else. But _I_ mean it."

"I'm the last person who should be giving anyone else relationship advice."

"Duly noted. I'd still like your input."

"Okay...I think it would be a mistake."

"Why?"

"Because...even if the possibility of children never becomes an issue, the two of you obviously want very different things out of life. You're polar opposites, as far as your approach to medicine, your ethics, your politics and religious beliefs. You don't even like the same food or watch the same movies. You can't just ignore such discrepancies and hope they will magically resolve themselves over time. If you have a vasectomy, I think you will regret it. And because you're a generally decent person, and tend to put other people's needs before your own, you'll probably try really hard to make it work. But ultimately…you won't be happy and you'll end up resenting her for it."

"I love her."

"Yeah…and if that were enough, no one would ever get divorced."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For...telling me the truth."

"No problem."

"I've asked a few other people what they thought I should do."

"Who, Foreman and Taub?"

"And Wilson."

"..."

"They all told me what they thought I wanted to hear."

"Oh...well, that's actually Wilson's specialty."

"..."

"So what _are _you going to do?"

"I think I'm going to tell her _no_."

"And what if she responds by moving forward with the divorce?"

"Then it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway."

"..."

"So…what's she going to do all day?"

"Who?"

"Rachel."

"Uh…I've got crayons and paper in my desk. I could probably snag some puzzles or something, from peds. She takes a two hour nap in the afternoon."

"Where's she supposed to sleep?"

"There's a portable playpen in my trunk. But it's too cumbersome for me to carry, while walking with my cane. So if I end up having to staying all day, someone else is going to have to go get it and lug it up here."

"I can do that."

"You're sure."

"I don't mind."

"Um..."

"Just say _thank you_."

"Thank you."

"..."

"This is crazy, right?"

"What is?"

"_This."_

"..."

_"_I mean, I'm fifty-one years old. I'm physically handicapped. I'm a recovering drug addict. I spent my summer in a mental hospital. I'm still taking psych meds, without which I probably wouldn't be able to function. There's no way this is going to work. This is...ridiculous."

"..."

"Should I even bother going through with this, or am I just deluding myself?"

"It's your life. You can do whatever you want with it."

"I'm asking for your opinion."

"..."

"You can be frank with me, Chase. I can handle it."

"Yeah...I've found that when people say that, they rarely mean it."

"_I_ mean it."

"I don't think you're deluding yourself at all. I think you'd end up being a much better parent than you'd prefer to believe."

"You know...if I was looking for someone to tell me _exactly_ what they thought I wanted to hear, I'd be talking to Wilson."

"I honestly have no idea what it is that you'd _want_ to hear. You asked for my opinion. _That_ was it."

"..."

"Based on my observation, I think the only delusion you're suffering from is that you're somehow different from the rest of the human race and less entitled to pursue or experience genuine happiness."

"..."

"There's no law that states at which point a person is too old to bear offspring. This seventy year old man came into the clinic the other day and had his forty year old girlfriend and five year old daughter with him."

"Yeah...and he'll be dead before his child graduates from high school, if not sooner."

"Is that what you're worried about?"

"I don't even know what I'm worried about."

"I know you tend to approach things analytically. Consider this...Cuddy wouldn't have asked you to father her child, if she had a problem with your age, your current physical condition your personal history or whatever else about yourself that you've decided is unforgivable and makes you unworthy of other people's attention or concern."

"..."

"That's funny?"

"No...it's just that my shrink said the same exact thing."

"Great minds think alike."

"Yeah."

"..."

"Um...thank you."

"For what?"

"Telling me the truth."

"No problem."


	19. Chapter 19

_House Cuddy conversation_

**

* * *

**

Chapter 19

"House...what are you doing out here?"

"Having a smoke."

"I can see that. Is there some reason you felt the need to walk all the way across the street at two o'clock in the morning in order to do it?"

"_Smoking near pregnant women may result in fetal injury, premature birth, and low birth weight_. Look...it says so right on the box."

"I'm not pregnant."

"But you could be."

"But I'm not."

"..."

"You don't have to put it out just for me."

"While I take great pride in maintaining my reputation for nonconformity and civil disobedience, I'm not going to stand here and deliberately blow carcinogens in the face of someone who _might_ be pregnant. Besides, you hate it when I smoke."

"You didn't answer my question."

"What was it again?"

"About why you're standing across the street at two o'clock in the morning."

"Did I wake you? Because I was actually trying to be quiet for once."

"You didn't wake me. I got up to use the restroom and when I was getting back in bed, I realized you weren't there."

"How did you figure out where I went?"

"Your jacket was missing."

"It was?"

"You usually throw it over the back of the couch when you get home from work and it wasn't there. I figured that wherever you were, there was a good chance that you'd taken it with you, and you'd only bother with your jacket if you were planning to go outside. I thought maybe you couldn't sleep and had gone for a ride. So I glanced out the window to see if your bike was still here."

"You got up to pee?"

"Yes."

"Do you do that often?"

"Every once in a while. Why?"

"How often is _every once in a while_?"

"I don't know. Why does it matter?"

"Nocturia could be a sign of pregnancy."

"Pregnancy related nocturia tends to present during the third trimester, as a result of the uterus pressing against the bladder. I'm not pregnant, House."

"Well that just leaves diabetes mellitus or a thyroid condition."

"It doesn't occur often enough to be diagnostic of either of those things. It actually doesn't occur often enough to be diagnostic of _anything_. So there's no need to bust out your whiteboard and dry erase markers. Because I'm fine."

"Do you have a family history of diabetes?"

"Not that I know of."

"What are your triglyceride levels?"

"Wouldn't you know it? I left them in my other pants."

"You should at least get FBS and a glucose tolerance test."

"Why...because I got up in the middle of the night to pee?"

"Well you seem fairly convinced that you're not pregnant..."

"That's because I'm not."

"But you don't know that for sure."

"I know when I'm pregnant, House."

"..."

"I will just interpret this as your slightly twisted method of showing that you care about my well being."

"For which you'll express your gratitude by dismissing my input altogether."

"Yes."

"You're seriously not the least bit concerned?"

"About what?"

"The nocturia."

"Not anymore concerned than I was about the forty-four ounces of iced coffee that I drank, while I was grading papers tonight."

"Extreme thirst is a symptom of diabetes."

"I didn't drink it because I was thirsty."

"Maybe not consciously. The body tends to crave what it needs...or what it thinks it needs. When there's excess glucose in the body, it causes dehydration of the surrounding tissues, which leads to thirst. The thirst leads to over hydration, which results in frequent urination."

"You do realize I'm an endocrinologist, right?"

"..."

"Coffee is chock full of caffeine. Caffeine is a diuretic, which would explain the nocturia. It's _not_ a medical mystery."

"Have you noticed a sweet odor to your urine?"

"I haven't had a chance to smell my urine recently. But I'll definitely get right on that."

"You're patronizing me."

"Yes, I am."

"Why?"

"Do you smell _your _urine?"

"Every chance I get."

"And you still haven't answered my question."

"About my urine?"

"About why you're across the street."

"I told you. I wanted to smoke."

"You don't have to cross the street to do that."

"I think the surgeon general would disagree."

"I'm not pregnant."

"Yet."

"It's been four cycles, House."

"So?"

"So I seriously doubt it's going to happen."

"You're just giving up?"

"No. I've just finally decided to stop living under the delusion that it's possible for me to produce my own biological offspring."

"Hmm...that sounds like giving up to me."

"Aren't you the one who was pushing me towards _acceptance_?"

"Yes. But what you're talking about is an unconditional surrender. That's not acceptance. That's avoidance."

"Avoidance, huh? So how long should I keep trying for? When do I officially get to quit?"

"It was your idea...but you're asking _me_ when you get to quit. Does that seem at all backwards to you?"

"..."

"You can quit whenever you want, Cuddy. You don't need my permission."

"And you wouldn't care?"

"Define_ care_."

"..."

"We both know that this isn't about what_ I_ want."

"But what if it were?"

"It's _your_ body."

"You don't think you should have _some _kind of say in it?"

"Sure...but you're the one whose hormones are going to be out of whack. You're the one who will be risking your health by allowing an independent life form to take up residence in your uterus for nine months. Me...I just get to watch."

"..."

"Logic dictates that if this really were as important to you as you claim, you'd never stop hoping."

"Logic has no place in this conversation."

"..."

"What's the point of hoping for something that you already know is never going to happen?"

"But you have no idea what's going to happen."

"..."

"What?"

"Just forget it. There's no way you could possibly understand."

"Yes…because I have no idea what it's like to have my quality of life compromised by a physiological limitation."

"And I suppose you're just overflowing with hope."

"Accepting the degree to which things suck does not disqualify you from wishing they didn't. Acceptance means acknowledging the fact that things are out of your control and that, despite your valiant efforts, they are unlikely to improve."

"..."

"Will I always be crippled? Probably. Will I always be in pain? To some extent, yes. Is there anything I can do about either of those things? Probably not. Does that mean I should stop wishing that I could?"

"So you're telling me that I should just keep hoping that I might get pregnant, despite all the reasons I have to believe that I won't."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"..."

"What you might want to _stop_ doing is assuming that you're entitled."

"Entitled to what?"

"A specific outcome."

"It's wrong of me to want this?"

"Not at all. But there's no point in fixating on something that can't be changed. What you truly _deserve_ is irrelevant. Of course you deserve to be happy. But that doesn't mean you will be. You need to find some way to accept that you have virtually no control over your situation. Take whatever it is you get and find a way to be satisfied with it."

"Who the hell am I talking to?"

"Sixteen months of therapy, baby."

"It seems like you got your money's worth."

"I think certain people would disagree."

"Then _certain people_ can take a hike."

"Yeah...I'm pretty sure he's not the only one."

"Maybe not...but he's the only one you really care about."

"It shouldn't bother me."

"That doesn't mean it won't."

"His opinion shouldn't mean anything to me...especially now."

"Why not?"

"It just shouldn't."

"I think he's just now realizing how little he really knows about you."

"..."

"I mean, you two used to spend every waking second of your free time together. He and I...we talked about you, probably a lot more than we should have. But I had grown comfortable with the belief that it was okay to do that, because he knew you better than anyone else. I was convinced that he had your best interests at heart and that he understood you in ways that I never could."

"What are you saying?"

"That I have no idea what his motives really are. I doubt that _he_ even knows. But it just never occurred to me, during that particular period of time, that his depiction of you might be inaccurate."

"_How_ inaccurate?"

"Who he made you out to be bears very little resemblance to the man standing before me right now."

"Do I even want to know?"

"No."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Really?"

"..."

"You're not remotely curious?"

"I _am_ curious. But seriously...what good could possibly result from me possessing that information? It will only depress me or make me angry. Then I'll waste valuable energy obsessing about it, energy I could be using for something much more fulfilling. So I'd really rather not know...if it's okay with you."

"Sure. I'm just...surprised."

"Why?"

"Because you usually want to know everything."

"Yeah...well the novelty on that has worn a little thin."

"..."

"Wilson...sees what he wants to see and believes what he wants to believe. I mean, we're all like that to some extent. But he's taken it to a whole new level. And he's been at it so long, he can no longer tell where the line between reality and his individual perception is drawn."

"..."

"He brings out the worst in me...and I apparently bring out the worst in him. If I had any reason to believe that we could change that somehow...trust me, I'd be all over it."

"Do you miss him?"

"There are things about him that I miss. But if you're talking about the big picture or the complete package. No, I guess I don't."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"And you still haven't told me."

"Told you what?"

"Why you're really out here."

"I thought we established that I came out to have a smoke."

"I know that. What I'm asking is why you chose to do that."

"I couldn't sleep."

"So why not watch television or bake something or read a book?"

"..."

"Are you in pain?"

"No more than usual."

"But something's bothering you."

"Why would assume that?"

"Because you're standing across the street from your own home, smoking a cigarette at two-thirty in the morning."

"..."

"And also, earlier tonight when we were fooling around you appeared to be experiencing some...technical difficulties."

"..."

"I know you. You weren't in the mood to do it in the first place. You did it because you knew that _I_ wanted to. Otherwise you would have finished with flying colors."

"Thanks, I think."

"And for you to be completely disinterested in sex, to the point that it would affect your ability to perform...something would have to be bothering you."

"..."

"You were fine this morning...you haven't done anything since then but go to work. And you came home a little later than usual, which implies that whatever it is that's bugging you, it's probably work related."

"..."

"Who was your most recent patient?"

"Why would you need to know that?"

"I suppose I could always call someone on your team."

"..."

"Or I could call..."

"Two year old male, presenting with sudden onset complex-partial seizures, hyperalgesia and syncope."

"A two year old with hyperalgesia?"

"That's what I said."

"How did he go about communicating that he was in pain?"

"How do two year olds normally go about communicating things?"

"He'd be too young for anything opiate induced. Was he septic?"

"No infection."

"You ran a CBC?"

"Twice. But it was inconclusive."

"Why would it be inconclusive?"

"The hyperalgesia messed with his platelets, making the fact that his white count was elevated irrelevant."

"Then how did you determine that he wasn't septic?"

"We ran sensitivities."

"And everything was clear?"

"I actually never got the results."

"Why."

"Because they can take up to forty-eight hours and the patient died before they were posted."

"..."

"After he died, I got a chance to examine him more thoroughly. I noticed some very faint bruises and soft tissue damage in various stages of healing."

"He'd been abused?"

"It sure looked that way."

"By one of the parents?"

"No."

"The babysitter?"

"Sixteen year old step-sister."

"Are you sure?"

"I guess the parents both work full time. They're low income. So they can't afford daycare. They were relying on their daughter to watch her baby brother, during the hours when she wasn't in school."

"I take it she had other plans."

"You could say that."

"What did she do to him?"

"She was high on meth supposedly, almost enough to constitute an overdose. That may be a decent explanation. But it's not a valid excuse. There _is _no valid excuse."

"What happened?"

"You know…some things are just too horrible to think about, let alone speak of."

"You might feel better if you shared it."

"I seriously doubt it."

"What was the cause of death?"

"Subdural hematoma."

"That would explain the seizing and the syncope. But what about the hyperalgesia?"

"When there's herniation in the brain, due to either injury or infection, it can result in a misfiring or an amplification of pain signals."

"And you already said that there was no infection. So I'm assuming that there was some sort of trauma?"

"Yep."

"Well...what was it?"

"She threw him."

"What?"

"The sister. Apparently at some point she became convinced that her little brother might be able to fly. So she opted to test that theory by flinging him down a flight of stairs."

"Oh my God."

"..."

"And she volunteered that information?"

"Oh, hell no."

"Then how did..."

"One of her friends came to the hospital to see how the kid was doing. He'd died just minutes earlier. Taub overheard the two girls arguing in the stairwell. When the sister was alone again, he and Foreman cornered her and bluffed her into a confession."

"Why would someone do such a thing?"

"Oh I'm sure the drugs played a part."

"…"

"The sister claimed that the kid was alert and responsive, immediately after he...landed. She said there were no obvious signs of head injury, not that she would even know what to look for. But a few hours later, when the parents came home, the kid was in and out of consciousness. When they were unable to wake him, they called nine-one-one. He didn't actually start seizing until he was en route to the hospital."

"Wait a minute. This kid was brought to the ER?"

"That's generally where you take your kids, when they don't regain consciousness."

"But how did his file end up in your hands?"

"We didn't have a case."

"So you went looking for one?"

"It has been known to happen."

"But why in the ER?"

"Why not?"

"..."

"I've pulled charts on ER patients before."

"House, your last six cases were ER patients, all of which under the age of five, three of which died as a result of things that were completely out of your control."

"You're keeping track of my cases now? That's impressive, considering you don't even work there anymore."

"Foreman and Chase both expressed their concerns."

"Well...at least I can count on Taub to not give a shit."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Um...no."

"I'm bored, okay? I'm a recovering drug addict. I crave excitement. What could be more exciting than the ER?"

"So I shouldn't read anything into this?"

"Nope."

"..."

"But you're still going to."

"Absolutely."

"..."

"What happened to the girl?"

"They arrested her. From what I gathered, they're charging her with manslaughter and reckless endangerment."

"Why not murder?"

"Because it's difficult enough to prove malicious intent. It's even more difficult when both parties are biologically related and there are controlled substances involved. Depending on how good her public defender is, she could easily end up going to rehab in exchange for a reduced sentence."

"Hardly seems fair."

"I can't imagine how much her bail is going to post at, but I hope it takes the parents at least forty-eight hours to scrape it up."

"Why?"

"So she can spend that time detoxing in agony, on the hard, concrete floor of her cell."

"…"

"I don't know why I even care."

"So you do…care."

"It's like someone flipped a switch in my brain."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's say you get pregnant."

"What?"

"I mean hypothetically...let's say you get pregnant and somehow you go full term and we end up having a kid."

"Okay."

"What if something happens to it?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"I mean, what if it gets hurt? What if it dies? What if it needs me to protect it and I can't…because I'm too old, or because I'm handicapped, or because of something completely out of my control?"

"What if someone flings it down a flight of stairs?"

"..."

"Why didn't you tell me that you felt this way?"

"I don't know."

"..."

"Not that I have anything to compare it to. But I thought maybe this is how a person in my position is supposed to feel."

"And you no longer believe that?"

"I feel like it's not even my choice."

"What do you mean?"

"It's as though it's not even something that I'm doing or that I've done, but something that's being done to me."

"..."

"This can't be normal."

"What if it is?"

"..."

"You don't think I'm afraid of something happening to my child?"

"..."

"I've mulled over hundreds of scenarios in my mind. I've wasted hours obsessing about all the things that could go wrong."

"..."

"I would never claim to know what is and isn't_ normal, _House. All I can do is speak for myself."

"And?"

"I feel the way that you feel...uncertain, scared, wondering if it's all worth it."

"You're okay with that?"

"Okay with what?"

"When you adopted Rachel, you basically volunteered to spend the rest of your life worrying."

"Yep."

"And when you decided to date me..."

"House, I've been worrying about you for years."

"..."

"You seriously didn't know?"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Like what?"

"..."

"I was afraid you'd mock me."

"I probably would have."

"Well then there you are."

"I haven't worried about anyone in a long time, I mean not until just recently...not even myself."

"And you think that's something you can change overnight?"

"..."

"The last thing I want to do is to force anything on you."

"Since when?"

"What I mean is, whatever personal growth you end up making...I'd rather it be done slowly with lasting results, than quickly with temporary results."

"Okay."

"..."

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me? Couldn't you just as easily find someone _without_ these issues, someone who wouldn't need to make any emotional growth?"

"I suppose I _could_ do that."

"And yet...you're not."

"..."

"Why?"

"Maybe you're the only one I want to do my worrying with."


	20. Chapter 20

_Transitory chapter. __House Nolan session. Takes place about a month after the previous chapter_

* * *

**Chapter 20**

"Well?"

"_Well _what?"

"You know damn well _what_."

"..."

"I told you this was going to backfire on you."

"What _backfire_? This is exactly what I said would happen."

"Uh no...if I remember correctly, you wouldn't even acknowledge the possibility that this might happen."

"I said the chances of her becoming pregnant were slim. I didn't say they were nonexistent."

"I know exactly what you said, Greg. I have it right here in my notes."

"..."

"Which you already know and obviously couldn't care less about. So arguing about it would be a waste of our time and energy. At this point, it doesn't really matter what you said. Whatever the odds _might _have been, she's apparently beaten them."

"She's only six _weeks_ along."

"So?"

"So there's no reason to get all excited."

"Yet."

"..."

"Besides, you have no way of knowing that for sure."

"Seven spontaneous abortions beg to differ."

"And have you determined the cause of any of those miscarriages?"

"No."

"Do you even have any theories?"

"..."

"So...what reason do you have to believe that a very specific set of circumstances will repeat themselves, when you're not even sure what those circumstances are?"

"..."

"Have you told her this?"

"Told her what?"

"I mean, have you made a point of reminding her that, statistically speaking, this probably won't end well?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because first of all, I'm not an idiot...and second, I seriously doubt that she needs to be _reminded_."

"But is she aware of your position on the matter?"

"My position?"

"As far as the inevitability of another miscarriage. Does she realize that your willingness to participate in this arrangement was at least partially fueled by the belief that your attempts to conceive a child together would ultimately be unsuccessful?"

"I just told you, I'm not an idiot."

"Okay."

"..."

"But either way you slice it, you're apparently not telling her the truth...at least not in its entirety."

"What's your point?"

"I'm curious what exactly you _are_ telling her?"

"What she wants to hear."

"Which is?"

"That she deserves to be happy, that she shouldn't give up, that nothing is impossible...and a handful of similarly themed platitudes."

"_Nothing is impossible_. Do you really believe that?"

"Nope."

"Do you believe _any_ of those things?"

"..."

"But you want her to_ think _that you do."

"Yep."

"Why?"

"..."

"You know what _I_ think?"

"No...but I'm sure I'm only seconds from finding out."

"I think that when or_ if_ she miscarries, you want her to do so under the impression that she had your support all along. And since you've already decided that further attempts to conceive will be equally fruitless, you're operating under the assumption that it won't matter what your intentions_ really_ are, because she'll never know the truth."

"Clever, no?"

"No."

"Why do you always have to be such a party pooper?"

"This is a very dangerous game you're playing here. I don't think you realize."

"Give me a break. I know what I'm doing."

"No, I really don't think you do."

"Hey…did I mention that I'm a doctor?"

"Hey, did I mention that I'm a therapist?"

"..."

"Okay…_Doctor_. Let's say you're right. She miscarries at some point during the next two or three weeks. What happens then?"

"Then I will play the compassionate, caring boyfriend…I'll make her some those cookies she likes, creamy peanut butter with white chocolate chips. We can sit around for a couple of days, being sad together."

"Or pretending to be sad, in your case."

"Exactly."

"…"

"Then she'll realize that having one kid is fulfilling enough and we can all pretend this whole ordeal never took place."

"It's really that simple to you, isn't it?"

"..."

"So...cookies. That's your contingency plan."

"…"

"Those must be some damn good cookies."

"Well I _was_ going to make you some too. But since you're dead set on drawing these ridiculous conclusions about my..."

"..."

"What the hell are you grinning at?"

"Nothing."

"Uh huh."

"Has this _ever _worked for you?"

"What?"

"This whole scheming and conniving routine."

"…"

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your silence speaks volumes."

"No, it doesn't. It doesn't speak at all. That's why they call it _silence_."

"So…let's say you're wrong."

"I prefer not to operate on such a preposterous assumption."

"Okay…hypothetically then."

"…"

"Let's just pretend for a minute that you're a human being and capable of error. Let's say you're wrong. Let's say there is no miscarriage. She carries the baby to full term. What then?"

"That's not going to happen."

"What if it does?"

"It's not."

"But what if it does?"

"…"

"Or what if she carries it past the point of viability…at which point it would no longer considered _biohazardous waste_, but an actual human being, and it still dies?"

"…"

"Or what if she does miscarry, prior to the point of viability, but she wants to try again?"

"..."

"What if she wants to keep trying, no matter _how_ many miscarriages she has?"

"She won't."

"How do you know that?"

"I just know, okay?"

"Have the two of you discussed these possibilities?"

"Not...exactly."

"Have you discussed this matter at all?"

"..."

"Can you see how that might be a problem?"

"..."

"Greg...this is a recipe for disaster."

"Hey, that happens to be my best dish."

"I'm glad that you can find this amusing."

"You can't?"

"Are you trying to sabotage this relationship?"

"Why do you always head straight for the worst case scenario?"

"Why do you always insist on evading when I do?"

"..."

"It's my job to teach you how to cope with anything that life might throw at you. It would irresponsible for me to not to bring all possibilities to your attention."

"Well in that case, the answer is _no_. I'm not trying to sabotage the relationship...quite the opposite."

"Um...just so that I'm sure we're on the same page here, this is no longer a casual relationship."

"I guess that depends on what you mean by _casual_."

"I mean that, for all practical purposes, this is serious and you would therefore like it to last as long as possible."

"Yes."

"And you feel that concealing any truths that she might find unpleasant will ensure the longevity of your relationship?"

"..."

"I can't tell you what to do, Greg. But if I were in your situation, I'd be strongly considering an alternative approach."

"_Alternative _in regards to what?"

"Look...I won't deny it. Lies can make things more complicated. In fact, they usually do. But they can also make things easier...more convenient. Sometimes we tell lies to protect others and sometimes we tell lies just to protect ourselves. But generally speaking, regardless of our intentions, any benefits that we reap from those lies...tend to be short term."

"..."

"I think you're smart enough to realize that regardless of how cleverly you disguise it, the truth will reveal itself eventually, and most likely when you're least expecting it."

"And I think that _you're_ smart enough to realize that my life isn't an episode of Perry Mason."

"..."

"Besides, they're not _lies_."

"They're not?"

"At least not in the technical sense."

"What are you saying?"

"That I'm reluctant to label something a _lie_, when truth continues to go undefined. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about all of this, or if I'm even_ feeling_ anything at all."

"..."

"There are a number of ways in which this whole thing could end, and I'm not particularly attached to any of them."

"..."

"But I should be...I think. I mean, I should be feeling something, right? A _normal _person would be feeling something."

"Like what?"

"..."

"Just what is it that you think a _normal _person should be feeling right now?"

"If I knew that, you wouldn't need this comfy chair."

"I have to be honest with you, Greg. I'm not buying it."

"Buying what?"

"This...pseudo-ambivalence of yours."

"I just told you..."

"I know that you can't see it. But I can and I need you to trust me. This is classic denial. This supposed absence of _feeling_...it's an illusion, a ruse that you've subconsciously designed, just for the sheer purpose of deluding yourself. It's a safety precaution."

"Safety from what?"

"From having to _feel."_

"..."

"I think you would agree that there is some part of you that would enjoy having a child. But you won't allow yourself to experience that enjoyment. Because at some point you decided that seeking personal fulfillment was too great a risk."

"..."

"Your goal seems to be to maintain a comfortable distance from anyone or anything of importance. You already know that if by some chance you _do _end up having a child together, you can easily avoid investing yourself emotionally. That way you don't have to live in fear of something happening to it. And if something _does_ happen to it, you won't have to suffer any pain or loss."

"..."

"I know you think you've got it all under control, that everything will unfold according to plan. But you don't and it won't. It's an illusion. And when you finally realize how helpless you really are, you're going to crash."

"You don't know that."

"Your recent nervous breakdown begs to differ."

"What _recent_? It was like sixteen months ago."

"Then I'm obviously not talking about sixteen months ago."

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

"It was a momentary lapse."

"How long do you think you can outrun this thing?"

"For another two or three weeks, hopefully."

"And what if she doesn't miscarry?"

"I told you..."

"That she will. But there's no way you could possibly know that. I'm asking you to consider another possibility. What if she _doesn't_ miscarry?"

"I don't know."

"Are you ready to be a parent?"

"Is anyone _ever _ready to be a parent?"

"Good point, bad deflection."

"I prefer not to waste my free time speculating about things that will probably never happen."

"But what if they _do_ happen?"

"I guess I'll deal with it then."


	21. Chapter 21

_Three weeks after previous chapter. House and Cuddy conversation._

**

* * *

**

Chapter 21

"Kneeling to the porcelain God again?"

"Go away. I hate you."

"Yeah...like you being pregnant is _entirely_ my doing."

"Bite me."

"Uh oh. Sounds like her worshipfulness got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"I've asked you repeatedly not to call me that."

"And I've asked you repeatedly to mop the kitchen naked. I guess we'll both have to cope with the disappointment."

"House..."

"What?"

"Can you get me a wet wash cloth?"

"You insult me and then you ask me for favors? Stop, I'm getting aroused."

"..."

"A wash cloth, huh? I think I can manage that. Those are the things that are kind of like towels, only a little smaller?"

"Not dripping wet. Just...run it under the tap and wring it out."

"..."

"Thanks."

"But seriously…are you just going to spend the rest of the day on the floor in front of the toilet? If so, you might want to consider investing in some knee pads."

"I'm so glad you're entertained by my plight."

"Don't flatter yourself. This is barely amusing. The only reason I'm in here right now is because Tony Stewart crashed into the wall and now all the other drivers are doing caution laps until the debris is cleared from the track."

"I have no idea what that means."

"..."

"There's no way this is going to work."

"..."

"This was a mistake. I was deluding myself."

"That's _it?"_

"What?"

"You're just going to throw in the towel?"

"I don't..."

"Don't be such a pussy."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Hey...you dragged me into this, dammit. You don't get to just give up, the moment that things get tough. You've come this far. You're going to see it through."

"Go watch your stupid race."

"I already told you, _caution laps_."

"I'm not _trying _to be pessimistic, House. I'm trying to be _rea_listic. I shouldn't be this sick. Something _has_ to be wrong."

"You're ten weeks pregnant. Your progesterone and HCG just went from zero to sixty in three seconds. Morning sickness is normal."

"Is it supposed to last all day?"

"Roughly twenty percent of pregnant women experience the symptoms of morning sickness all throughout the day. I know. I researched it in depth, in anticipation of this conversation."

"..."

"And it could be a good thing."

"How could this _possibly_ be good?"

"Typically women who miscarry in the first trimester don't experience morning sickness."

"Still doesn't explain the severity."

"True hyperemesis gravidarum occurs in less than one percent of women. And you'd have all kinds of other problems...hallucinations, lack of coordination, short term memory loss."

"That doesn't mean it couldn't be something else."

"Oh yeah? Like what for instance?"

"..."

"Any dizziness or headaches?"

"No."

"Are you spotting?"

"No."

"Any kind of discharge?"

"No."

"Any cramping?"

"No...nothing. Just the nausea and vomiting."

"Excessive morning sickness is usually the result of altered olfactory perception."

"That's not it. I mean, I _am_ more sensitive to smells. But I haven't come across any so far that actually made me sick."

"You're not far along enough for preeclampsia or gestational diabetes."

"..."

"Some pregnant women suffer from hypoglycemia."

"Urine dipstick showed normal glucose levels. And if this were just run of the mill, acute hypoglycemia, the treatment would be a glass of orange juice."

"Then the only other obvious explanation would be that you're carrying multiples."

"Very funny."

"Not trying to be funny."

"The initial ultrasound showed one embryo, and the doppler only detected one heartbeat. It's got to be something else."

"You were only six weeks pregnant when you got the initial ultrasound."

"So?"

"So one embryo can hide behind another, and it can be difficult to detect two separate heartbeats that early on in a pregnancy."

"They can't hide completely. I had a second ultrasound three days ago. If there were another embryo, we'd have seen it then."

"Diagnosing multiples via ultrasound is not considered definitive until after the tenth week, preferably the twelfth."

"So...that's like fifteen days from now. Do you really think that much is going to change before now and then?"

"Yeah, actually. I do."

"..."

"Anyone in your family have multiples?"

"Not that I know of."

"Mine either."

"I can't believe this is happening."

"You can't believe that _what_ is happening?"

"I never made it this far before."

"Well now you have."

"What if I miscarry again?"

"Then you miscarry again."

"And then what?"

"Then we give it another shot."

"And you're okay with that?"

"..."

"Why are you being so supportive all of a sudden?"

"It's purely self interest, I assure you."

"Being supportive of someone else isn't self interest, House. It's the opposite of self interest."

"Not necessarily."

"..."

"I realized that if you're not happy, _my_ chances of being happy are statistically slim."

"So?"

"So if you really think that is what it would take to make you happy, I want you to have it."

"And what if I _can't_ have it?"

"Then you'll have to figure some way to be happy with what you've got."

"Right."

"..."

"So when are you going in?"

"_In_ where?"

"To work."

"It's Sunday."

"I thought you had a patient...the guy with peripheral neuropathy."

"He's already been diagnosed."

"With what?"

"Amyloidosis. We found him a bone marrow donor. Transplant's scheduled for tomorrow at eight. After that, he'll belong to oncology."

"You should still have someone from your team monitoring him, at least until the surgery."

"We do. We drew straws. Taub lost. I gave the rest of the department the day off."

"You did?"

"It's _my_ department. I do have _some_ administrative control."

"Of course...I just don't remember you ever giving anyone on your team the day off before."

"Foreman's brother is being evicted…again. This time for repeatedly disturbing the peace. Foreman's going to help him find another place to live, because one of the stipulations of his parole is that he has to maintain a permanent residence, within a twenty mile radius. Chase is driving to Boston to meet Cameron for lunch, which I assume is just code for _casual, commitment free sex_. And then there's me."

"What about you?"

"I have to stay home and make sure you don't fall into the toilet."

"House…I don't need you here to take care of me. Go to work."

"But I'm not just taking care of you. I'm taking care of _the kid."_

"I've got it under control."

"No, you don't. Do you even know where she is right now?"

"..."

"Relax, she's fine. I was just making a point."

"..."

"Finish puking."

"I think I'm done."

"Good. Now you're going back to bed."

"I can't sleep right now, House."

"Well you're not doing _anything_ today."

"..."

"I'll get you some crackers and brew you some of that God awful tea your mom keeps giving you. Ginger is supposed to be good for an upset stomach."

"Bless you."

"Yeah, you can reimburse me later. I read somewhere that women are supposedly extremely horny during their second trimester, and I fully expect to see evidence of this."

"Whatever you say."

"When's your next appointment?"

"Tuesday."

"See if you can talk your OB into doing a transvaginal ultrasound. You'll get a clearer and more accurate view of your uterus. You've already been labeled high risk and she's familiar with your medical history. So there's no reason for her to refuse."

"She's going to think I'm being paranoid."

"So? What expectant mother_ isn't _paranoid?"

"It seems like when I express anything resembling doubt, she accuses me of being overly cautious and somehow manipulates me into doing things her way."

"Do you think she'd be willing to run an AFP?"

"AFP is routinely done at around sixteen weeks."

"Tell her you want to do it early."

"What do I do if she refuses?"

"Are you joking? You find another doctor."

"She specializes in high risk pregnancies."

"So what?"

"She's one of the most knowledgeable physicians in her particular field of study. She's at treatment capacity right now, and double booked for the next four months. I actually had to bribe her into treating me. The only reason she agreed to it is because her husband works at PPTH."

"He's a doctor too?"

"No...He's an accountant, billing and coding. I think his name is Tom."

"You mean that dweeby guy who sings along to his iPod when he's on the elevator?"

"That's the one."

"I always thought he was gay."

"Apparently just henpecked."

"So this woman is hot shit. That doesn't mean you're obligated to tolerate her treating you like a neophyte and making light of your concerns. She probably acts that way because she knows she can get away with it. She's the best at what she does, therefore anyone who needs her help is at her mercy."

"Gee...reminds me of someone else I know."

"Hey...at least I'm aware of it. This woman...you're not just a run of the mill patient with no medical training whatsoever. You're not objective obviously. But you're a physician. She should be giving your input at least minimal consideration."

"..."

"How about this? _I_ will draw your blood and run the AFP myself."

"Are you sure you have time for that?"

"It's not exactly a huge undertaking."

"..."

"Of course I'll have to store the sample in the fridge, until tomorrow morning."

"Wait...so you're not going anywhere until then?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Then how do you plain to obtain the sample?"

"I have blood draw kits in the trunk of my car."

"Why would you have that?"

"In case of emergencies."

"What kind of emergency would require the use of blood draw kits?"

"You never know. I've got everything from chest tubes to laryngoscopes, to hemostats."

"Please tell me that you didn't rip any of that off from the hospital."

"Okay...I didn't rip any of that off from the hospital."

"You're lying, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

"And you don't mind doing that? Drawing the blood, I mean."

"What do I always say?"

"If you minded, then you wouldn't have offered."

"Exactly."

"Rachel's awfully quiet."

"That's because she's taking her morning nap."

"She doesn't take a _morning nap_."

"She does when she wakes up at four o'clock, instead of six."

"Oh God…I didn't even hear her."

"No big deal. I was already awake anyway."

"But I can't believe I didn't hear her."

"Yeah…you should definitely spend a few minutes feeling bad about that. You know…between the heaves."

"So you've been up since then?"

"Yep."

"And what time is it _now_?"

"Um...seven twenty-five."

"Please tell me you're not serious."

"I could…but if I tell anymore lies, I'll never get to be real boy. I'm sure you can see where I'm conflicted."

"I need to get ready for work."

"Uh…no."

"What do you mean _no_?"

"Haven't you been paying attention? You're not going _anywhere_."

"Staying home is not an option."

"Neither is going to work."

"..."

"Who the hell takes a class on a Sunday anyway? Didn't God set aside that day for NASCAR and for storewide clearance sales?"

"House…"

"It's not up for discussion. The decision's already been made."

"It's _my_ decision."

"Not anymore. Your classes have both been cancelled for the day. It's already been posted on the website."

"How the hell did you do that? You would have had to hack into my account."

"_Hack_ is such a violent word. It makes it sound like there's something sharp involved."

"You figured out my password?"

"With very little effort, I assure you."

"God...excuse me while I die of embarrassment."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think you don't have to worry about _anyone_ else hacking into your account."

"Great."

"I doubt any reasonably intelligent person would suspect that your password is ILOVEHOUSE."

"Thanks...I think."

"..."

"I was supposed to review the last three units with them, in preparation for the midterm."

"I'm assuming you wrote up an outline or a study guide of some sort."

"Yes."

"Is the file on your computer?"

"It's on my flash drive."

"Then you can email it to them."

"I'd feel better if I could go over it with them in person."

"They're graduate students at an Ivy League university. They don't need you to hold their hands. If they haven't figured out how to study for a test by now, then there's a career in the food service industry with their name on it."

"…"

"And speaking of food, you really need to eat something."

"Did you miss the part where I can't hold anything down?"

"Did you miss the part where you can soak up all of that unruly stomach acid by munching on something bready and absorbent?"

"I can't eat, House."

"Well if you keep puking, I'm going to have to start an IV."

"I'm fine, really."

"Assuming that's true, which we both know that it isn't, the little fetus living inside you would probably appreciate you taking better care of yourself, since vomiting can lead to dehydration and dehydration can induce pre-term labor."

"Thanks. I haven't had anything to feel guilty about in at least two minutes."

"Give me a break."

"Excuse me?"

"There are some things that can't be helped, things over which you have no control. But you seem reluctant to take responsibility for the things that _are_ under your control."

"What?"

"For someone who wants this as badly as you do, you sure are half-assing it."

"..."

"Or are you just trying to spare yourself the disappointment, if things should go south again?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"You know, your OB is a major bitch. But she has excellent charting skills...and very legible handwriting."

"You had _no_ right to invade my privacy."

"I did, actually. Perhaps you've forgotten, but you signed a form giving your doctor permission to disclose to me anything that is directly related to your physical health."

"..."

"You've had three appointments so far and you haven't told me anything about any of them."

"Because there's nothing to tell."

"The notes she's made in your chart imply otherwise.

"..."

"You completely ignored her advice about discontinuing strenuous exercise, about _not_ deliberately subjecting yourself to any physical or emotional stress. She wants you to stop working and go on bed rest, starting at twenty-eight weeks. I can only imagine how _that's_ going to go. I may have to invest in some full body restraints."

"I can't just lay around in bed all day, House."

"So your solution is to just forgo the rest all together. It has to be one or the other? Might there be some kind of -I don't know- happy medium between the two?"

"This from the man who sees _everything_ in black and white..."

"Then there's your diet."

"What about my diet?"

"It said in your chart that you were advised to increase your daily caloric intake by thirty percent. You're not a rabbit. Lose the celery sticks and the soy milk. You need to be consuming foods that are high in protein and fat. Newsflash...you're pregnant. You're supposed to gain weight."

"..."

"And I'm afraid to ask if you're even taking the folic acid you were prescribed."

"Yes, I am. I'm taking all my vitamins."

"Look...I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I just...there's a reason doctors aren't supposed to treat themselves. You're not objective."

"And you think you are?"

"I'm not the one who's carrying another person around inside me."

"…"

"What?"

"You called it a _person_."

"It _is_ a person."

"…"

"It's just a very tiny person."

"…"

"Stop staring at me and go back to puking."


	22. Chapter 22

_Sorry for making you wait. The next update should be much sooner than this and longer._

_House Cuddy conversation._

* * *

**Chapter 22**

"You're eating again?"

"It's just a snack."

"It's like eleven thirty."

"So? I don't have to work tomorrow."

"You just had dinner at nine."

"Hey...aren't you the same person who was complaining that I wasn't eating enough?"

"..."

"This is _so_ good."

"Uh huh."

"I mean it."

"I believe you."

"It's like...I swear to God, I've never tasted anything _this_ good in my entire life."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Are you sure you don't want some?"

"I'm sure."

"Because it feels weird to be eating like this, when you're just sitting there."

"Yes..._that's_ what's odd about this situation."

"I have plenty."

"I actually prefer my Coco Puffs without the whipped cream and marshmallow topping. But really, thanks for offering."

"Whoever invented these was a genius."

"Or a total moron."

"…"

"Here's how it probably went. Once upon a time, a couple of stoners got the munchies at two o'clock in the morning. They went to the only open convenience store in search of sundries. But they couldn't seem to find exactly what they were in the mood for. Then one of them had an epiphany. He turned to his friend and said _hey dude, know what would be really good? Chocolate cereal_."

"..."

"And don't even get me started on Cookie Crisp."

"I've never smoked pot."

"Like ever?"

"I've been at parties where other people were smoking it. Just…the idea never appealed to me."

"I think I was thirteen years old when I smoked pot the first time."

"When I was thirteen years old, I didn't even know pot existed."

"What a sheltered life you must have led."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"..."

"So what do you think of _Gwen_?"

"Stefani? She's kind of hot. Not too fond of her cover of _Come On Eileen_. But a classic like that can't just be recycled by any old..."

"I meant as a name."

"A name for who?"

"..."

"Oh."

"..."

"I thought you said you weren't going to do that yet."

"I'm six days away from the end of my first trimester."

"Uh huh...and there's a reason why the quarterback doesn't stop running until _after_ he's actually crossed the goal line."

"I've had no spotting, no cramping…aside from the nausea and vomiting I feel great."

"That's like saying _aside from the rain, everything was dry_."

"You're not excited for me?"

"Experience has taught me that it's best to not get excited until I'm one hundred percent sure that there's something to get excited about."

"..."

"Care to take a guess how many things I actually get _excited_ about? I'll give you a hint. It's a single digit number."

"You don't think this is worth getting excited about?"

"Define_ this_."

"You know...you can be really insensitive sometimes."

"I'm pretty sure you knew that already."

"Is that supposed to make it okay?"

"Nope...it just means that you shouldn't be surprised when I fail to provide you with the desired amount of compassion or empathy."

"I have an appointment tomorrow at ten."

"For what?"

"I've decided to take your advice and go ahead with the transvaginal ultrasound."

"Why?"

"Just to get a better look at the baby."

"Okay...but I thought you said Dr. What's-her-face didn't think you needed one."

"I don't _need_ one. I want one. And besides, the AFP results were inconclusive."

"So she just felt sorry for you and caved?"

"No...she just went on vacation."

"Ah well, you know what they say..._when the cat's away, the mice will perform unapproved diagnostic procedures._ I'm paraphrasing, of course."

"So...will you come?"

"Come where?"

"To the appointment."

"To do what?"

"You don't have to _do_ anything, House. You just have to be there."

"Um...I'm not sure how something so painfully obvious could have escaped your attention. But I'm actually not all that good at just _being there_."

"You mean you're uncomfortable with the idea of just being there."

"Same difference."

"No, it's not."

"..."

"So let me get this straight. You complained that I wasn't eating enough and now that I am, you think I'm eating too much. Then you complained that I wasn't telling you anything about my appointments and now that I'm asking you to come along, you're not interested?"

"..."

"This has nothing to do with how _good_ you are at anything. And even if it did...you're good at everything you do. My God, you can juggle sharp objects and play Rachmaninoff. Somehow I doubt that _this_ would be any different."

"..."

"The possibility that your presence alone could be a comfort to someone else, completely evades you. So you reject it, mock it and avoid it...like you do any other feeling that you can't fully comprehend or control."

"..."

"What?"

"Sorry...I was still busy being impressed that you know who Sergei Rachmaninoff is."

"Is that really so hard to believe?"

"..."

"I don't, actually."

"Don't what?"

"Know who he is."

"But you just said that..."

"One day when you weren't here, I went through all your sheet music."

"What do you mean you _went through _it?"

"I went online, looked up all the composers whose names I didn't recognize, downloaded the songs...just to hear what they sounded like."

"That's romantic...in a creepy Norman Bates kind of way."

"Anyway, I read that his _Piano Concerto No. 3_ was especially difficult to play, that it's considered an achievement by many to master."

"So?"

"So I've heard you play it twice since you moved in."

"It's really not _that_ hard."

"It sounds pretty hard to me."

"Because you don't play."

"..."

"It's just long and tedious. I mean, the _Études-Tableaux_ is considered to be far more technically challenging. And the _Morceaux de Fantaisie_..."

"I seem to remember you telling me that the last thing you needed was a relationship with someone who wouldn't stand up to you, and who wouldn't encourage you to grow as a person, but enable your reluctance to leave the safety of your comfort zone."

"I was kidding."

"No, you weren't."

"Seriously...I was probably drunk that day. Enable away."

"..."

"You don't get it."

"I guess I don't."

"It's not real life."

"What isn't?"

"Rachmaninoff."

"..."

"If I can't play it, if I miss a note, if I can't keep up the tempo, if I give up somewhere in the middle and just decide not to finish...nobody gets hurt and nobody is affected."

"Except for you."

"And I can just start over. I can play it again and again, as many times as I like until I get it right."

"But you do eventually get it right."

"Well sure...if you bang away on the keys long enough, you're bound to..."

"And who do you share the joy of those successes with?"

"Why would you assume that I take_ joy _in my successes?"

"You don't?"

"..."

"Why the hell would you want to deny yourself that?"

"What I_ want _is irrelevant."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's outside of my control."

"Are you _that _terrified of failure?"

"This has nothing to do with me being afraid of..."

"So because things _could_ go bad, you're going to deny yourself whatever temporary pleasure they might have afforded you in the meantime."

"..."

"Aren't you at least curious about what we're having?"

"Sure I'm curious. But it's not like you're going to find that out tomorrow. Sexing a fetus isn't considered definitive until twenty weeks, fifteen weeks at the absolute earliest, with or without a transvaginal ultrasound."

"..."

"Which you already know, meaning that you must have some other reason for wanting me to be in attendance."

"Maybe I just want you to take an active interest in the life of your child."

"You should know by now that this is about as active as my interest gets."

"House, your _child _is growing inside me..."

"Fetus."

"Fine. Your _fetus_ is growing inside me."

"And if all goes well, I'm confident that I'll have endless opportunities to see it, once it's no longer living inside your uterus."

"Well I can't help it. I just can't wait to meet her."

__

"Her?"

"I think it's a girl."

"Uh…okay."

"…"

"What exactly are you basing that on?"

"I don't know, nothing scientific…I just feel like it's a girl."

"And if it _is_ a girl, you want to name her Gwen?"

"Not necessarily. I hadn't really narrowed it down. I was just tossing that out there."

"..."

"I also like Ramona, Lillian, Alice, Clara...Beatrice."

"…"

"Are there any girls names you like?"

"I really haven't thought about it."

"So think about it."

"…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"Yep."

"You think I'm jumping the gun here."

"Yeah, I do."

"You're worried about the baby."

"I'm worried about _you_."

"You don't think I could handle it, if something went wrong?"

"Whether or not you can _handle it _is irrelevant."

"Meaning?"

"Look...there's only so much disappointment a human being can take, before they finally snap."

"You think I'm going to snap?"

"..."

"What are you saying?"

"That whatever happens...it's ultimately out of your control."

"So I shouldn't get excited?"

"You can get excited all you want...as long as you don't lose sight of the fact that the chances of this particular story having a fairy tale ending are fairly slim."

"Wow...and you wonder why you're on three kinds of antidepressants?"

"..."

"Why does it have to be one or the other?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why does it have to be either a fairy tale ending or a devastating wreck?"

"It doesn't."

"But that's what you're implying."

"..."

"House...talk to me."

"No problem. Just change the subject."

"Why don't you want to talk about this?"

"Because we both know that you're going to do whatever the hell you want to do, regardless of my input."

"..."

"Which is fine. It's _your _kid."

"It's _our_ kid, House."

"I meant...you're the one who's carrying it."

"Just what is it that you want me to do?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not going to do it."

"But if I were? What if...what if it was entirely up to you?"

"If you were my patient, taking into consideration your age and medical history, I would tell you not to make any sort of long term plans until the fetus passes the point of viability."

"That's over nine weeks from now."

"I know."

"What am I supposed to do until then?"

"You wait."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"You...focus on whatever's certain."

"_Nothing_ is certain."

"Sure it is."

"..."

"You know for certain that you've never made it this far before."

"..."

"You know for certain that basically...there are only two ways that this could end. You're either going to have this baby or you're not. It will either live or it will die. And you know for certain that sometime during the next nine weeks, you'll get to find out which."

"..."

"I don't doubt that the suspense is killing you...but you need to accept that there's nothing you can actually_ do _to make that time go faster."

"..."

"And besides, it could be worse."

"How?"

"You could be doing this alone."

"Right."

"..."

"House?"

"What?"

"I love you."

"Now now. I'm sure that's just the Coco Puffs talking."


	23. Chapter 23

_Phone conversation between House and Nolan. About 3 weeks after the previous chapter. _

_Once again, regardless of how it might seem, you probably have no idea where this is going._

* * *

**Chapter 23**

"God...it's about time you called me back."

"I was in a meeting."

"You left me hanging for three hours."

"You could have stated that it was an emergency. Why didn't you?"

"Because _emergency_ isn't nearly a sufficient enough term."

"Then you should have dialed nine-one-one."

"It's not that kind of emergency."

"Okay...then what kind of emergency_ is _it?"

"You know what? I'm not even going to sugarcoat it or try to find a sexier, less pathetic way to describe it. Dignity is simply a luxury I can no longer afford."

"Alright."

"Remember how you said the reason I was fine with Cuddy being pregnant was because it hadn't really sunk in yet?"

"Uh huh."

"..."

"It finally sunk in?"

"More like hit me over the head and knocked me unconscious."

"When did this take place?"

"Earlier today."

"This sudden change...was this a random thing? Or did something specific happen that might explain what you're feeling right now?"

"I take it you didn't listen to any of my messages."

"No...because you left ten of them. I figured that whatever it was you were calling about, it was probably very important. Therefore I didn't see the point in doing anything that might delay my reply."

"Great."

"I need to know up front...is this a medical emergency? Do you need immediate medical attention? Is your life in danger?"

"No."

"No to which?"

"All three."

"Okay...so there's no rush. Why don't you just take your time and calmly tell me what's going on?"

"I went with Cuddy to the appointment like you advised."

"Good. How did she react to having you there?"

"I'd say she was pleased, if her self satisfied smile was any indication."

"So the appointment went well."

"For the most part."

"But things must have gone south at some point, or you wouldn't have brought it up."

"Yeah."

"Was there a conflict of some sort?"

"No...it was nothing like that."

"Then what was it?"

"She's sixteen weeks along...Cuddy, I mean."

"I kind of figured that's who you meant."

"Her OB specializes in high risk pregnancies."

"She's at the teaching hospital?"

"No...she has a private practice in Hopewell."

"What's her name?"

"Cynthia Pope."

"Hmm...doesn't ring a bell."

"She's a really stiff, uptight, by-the-book kind of gal. She's generally unsympathetic and dismissive of her patient's concerns. Bear in mind that's in comparison to yours truly."

"I recall you mentioning that before. I take it neither of you bothered trying to find another doctor?"

"We were going to."

"But you didn't. Why?"

"Dr. Pope recently took four weeks off and went on some kind of sabbatical in Hawaii."

"At that retreat in Honolulu?"

"You've been there?"

"I've _sent _people there. But I've never been. It's rather expensive, for one thing. But there are only a handful of places like it. From what I gathered, it's strictly for those who are working in the medical field. The program is geared towards providing rest and relaxation to doctors, nurses and medics who are in danger of becoming burned out."

"It must be pretty effective."

"Why would you say that?"

"When Dr. Pope returned from her little vacation, it was like she wasn't even the same person."

"In what sense?"

"Did you ever see _Invasion of The Body Snatchers_?"

"So she underwent some sort of drastic personality change."

"Yes."

"And I'm guessing she must have done something very specific to demonstrate that to you, or you wouldn't have drawn such a conclusion."

"Cuddy's been paranoid since day one...which is not unreasonable when you've had seven first trimester miscarriages. But as a result of that paranoia, she's requested a variety of completely unnecessary procedures. Lots of doctors would have humored her and ran the tests just for the hell of it. But naturally Dr. Pope declined."

"Couldn't Cuddy have found someone else to perform those procedures?"

"I asked her the same thing. I even offered to do some routine labwork. But she declined."

"Why do you think she would decline?"

"I have no idea. I know for a fact that she can't stand Dr. Pope, yet she's intent on remaining in her care."

"Perhaps she respects her on a professional level?"

"Supposedly she's the best high risk pregnancy obstetrician in the state of New Jersey...statistically speaking."

"So Cuddy is willing to suffer this woman's complete lack of a bedside manner, because she believes that it will increase her baby's overall chances for survival."

"Apparently."

"She hasn't said anything to you about why she's choosing to remain in Dr. Pope's care?"

"She's made some casual remarks. But no, not really."

"Hmm...so tell me more about this appointment."

"It was this morning at nine. The new and improved Dr. Pope was uncharacteristically chipper. Cuddy picked up on this right away of course, and seized the opportunity to request yet another unnecessary procedure."

"Which was?"

"Ultrasound."

"How many ultrasounds has she had so far?"

"Four, I think."

"For diagnostic purposes?"

"In some cases."

"So why do you think she wanted another?"

"To determine the baby's sex...which she was already scheduled to do about three weeks from now."

"So she just couldn't wait, huh?"

"I guess not."

"Can you sex a baby at sixteen weeks?"

"Typically infants are sexed around twenty weeks. Prior to that, anything determined via ultrasound _could_ be accurate, but is still considered unreliable."

"Ah."

"..."

"So _were_ you able to find out the baby's sex?"

"_Sexes_."

"_Sexes?"_

"Yeah."

"I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"I mean it's not _sex_, but _sexes_...as in plural, as in more than one."

"How can a baby have more than one sex? Is this some kind of chromosomal abnormality like Klinefelter's? Because I've read that despite having two..."

"No...not more than one _sex_. More than one _baby_."

"Oh."

"..."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Well...congratulations."

_"Congratulations?"_

"..."

"That's seriously all you've got to say?"

"I'm sorry. What would you like me to say?"

"I think maybe I'm being too vague. What I'm trying to say is that she's having twins."

"So I gathered. That would be why I said _congratulations."_

"_Twins."_

"Yes."

"That means _two_ babies."

"Yes, we've covered that. And it's a fairly well known fact that two is more than one."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Absolutely."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"I don't really know what it is that you want me to do, Greg. This definitely isn't something that needs _fixing_."

"You have _no_ advice for me whatsoever?"

"My advice is that you _seriously _need to chill out."

"..."

"Come on, think about it. What's changed?"

"I'm pretty sure we just established that."

"But what's _really _changed here? You already knew that she was having your baby. Now it turns out that she's having two of them. How different is that really?"

"What is this, review? Were you paying attention when we covered the whole _two is more than one _thing?"

"It's overwhelming, I know. You were no doubt already anxious about the idea of becoming a biological parent. Now…you're probably terrified."

"I'm almost fifty-two years old."

"I know that."

"I might not even live to see these kids graduate from high school, or go on their first date."

"Is that what's bothering you?"

"..."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it last week."

"What's bothering me is that I can't even figure _out _what's bothering me."

"Do multiples run in your family?"

"Not that I know of. But multiples actually occur least frequently in Caucasians than any other race."

"Huh...I didn't know that."

"..."

"And you still haven't told me."

"Told you what?"

"Whether or not you found out the sexes of the babies?"

"Not definitively. The tech was fairly confident that they're both boys. But we won't really know that for sure, for at least another three or four weeks."

"Will they be identical?"

"Not according to the ultrasound."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"I don't know. It seems like there's something more about this that's bothering you…something besides there being two babies instead of one."

"Like what?"

"You tell me."

"…"

"Were you hoping for a girl?"

"I wasn't _hoping_ for anything."

"Is it okay if I make an observation?"

"Would it stop you if I said _no_?"

"Knowing that you're having twins...it serves as a stronger reminder that that these aren't just blobs of cells in someone's uterus anymore. They're two separate human beings who will have personalities all their own."

"…"

"You will be the only father that these children will ever have…and that scares you, because you know from experience how easy it would be to screw that up, and what the ultimate consequences will be if you do."

"There's merit to your observations. But they aren't relevant to this situation."

"Then what_ is _relevant?"

"When these kids graduate from high school, I'm going to be sixty-nine years old."

"What's your point?"

"I would have thought that was obvious."

"It may very well be. But I still need to hear it from you."

"It's possible that I might die, at some point during the first eighteen years of their lives."

"And you'd like to spare them that loss?"

"..."

"That's big of you."

"Even if I was in perfect health, even if I did everything I was supposed to do, I could still die before I reach the age of seventy."

"First of all, everyone is mortal. Any of us could go at any time. So it's sort of pointless to plan your entire life around that inevitability. Secondly...you knew these things already, Greg. If this is how you felt, why did you agree to help her conceive a child?"

"..."

"You didn't think it was going to work, did you?"

"The odds were very slim."

"But not nonexistent."

"..."

"Do you see a solution for this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...what is it that you think can be done to alter these circumstances?"

"Nothing."

"So why worry about it?"

"..."

"What else is going on?"

"I don't know."

"But there's definitely something."

"..."

"Your relationship with Cuddy...any concerns that aren't directly related to her pregnancy?"

"No...everything's fine."

"The tone of your voice implies otherwise."

"No...everything really_ is_ fine."

"Except for you, right?"

"..."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know."

"What's on your mind _right now_?"

"..."

"Don't think about it too much. Just...the first thing that comes to you, whether it's relevant to the conversation or not."

"This whole...baby thing."

"What about it?"

"You know what I find interesting? Women can't get pregnant without sperm."

"Why do you find that interesting?"

"Because despite that fact, moms are the ones who actually _carry_ the children. So they get all the credit."

"What do you mean, _credit_?"

"I mean, they get top billing in their kid's life, for at least the first year or two...maybe even longer."

"..."

"What's ironic is that, a woman needs the participation of a man, in order to conceive. But if she isn't married to whichever man fathered her children, she can leave him whenever she wants, and take the kids with her. I know that it probably _does_ happen. But let's face it, how often do you hear about a woman _permanently_ abandoning her illegitimate children and leaving them in their father's care? Or an unmarried father fighting tooth and nail to get full custody of his kids?"

"Those things _do_ happen, much less frequently than any of the alternatives of course. In the event of divorce, a mother is at least three times more likely to be awarded full custody of her children."

"I don't think you understand what I'm trying to say."

"Then clarify."

"I've noticed a trend among divorced people."

"What kind of trend?"

"It seems that they all have one thing in common. They were all married at some point."

"Ah."

"..."

"This has nothing to do with the sex of your children, or even the fact that they are twins. You've just chosen to focus on those things because they're a safer outlet for your frustrations."

"..."

"Right?"

"Look...maybe I'm old fashioned or maybe I'm just old. But if a man gets a woman pregnant...regardless of the circumstances..."

"He should do the honorable thing."

"I realize how naive that probably sounds, especially coming from me."

"It's not naive at all, Greg."

"..."

"But I think it's only fair that you ask yourself whether or not you'd still want to marry her if she wasn't pregnant with your children."

"That's just it. I'm not sure."

"Have the two of you discussed the future of your relationship at all?"

"Not really."

"Have you thought about just coming right out and asking her if she'd be interested in getting married?"

"Thought about it, sure."

"But that's as far is it went?"

"..."

"Why?"

"What happens to our relationship if she says _no_?"

"You really think she's going to say _no_?"

"I wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise."

"So you'll settle for something less than what you actually desire, because you're afraid that if you reach out for more you'll risk losing what little you've got."

"Seems like the safest approach."

"And the loneliest."

"I'm fine with what I've got."

"But we both know that you could have more."

"..."

"Don't you think that's worth exploring? Don't you think you deserve to be happy?"

"It's irrelevant."

"What is?"

"What I _deserve_. It's irrelevant. People never get what they _deserve._"

"So your solution is to not even try?"

"What the hell do want from me?"

"What the hell do you want from _me?"_

"..."

"I want you to be honest with yourself about what it is that you really want. I want you to be willing to pursue it, regardless of whatever obstacles you encounter along the way."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, okay?"

"..."

"I don't want to be alone again."

"Who says you have to be?"

"You don't get it. If I rock the boat, everyone will fall out...not just me."

"So you're attempting to be as low maintenance as possible. Because if you can refrain from inconveniencing her, perhaps your relationship will last a little longer."

"..."

"Look...you can do whatever you want. And you certainly aren't obligated to take my advice. But I would be remiss if I didn't tell you...I strongly believe that if you continue refusing to confront your true desires, you will ultimately regret it."

"What exactly is it that you think I should do?"

"Talk to her. Talk to her about the future of your relationship. Talk to her about marriage. Tell her how you feel."

"Right...and what happens when she says she's not interested?"

"Then you talk some more."

"You can't _talk_ someone into marrying you."

"No...but you can find out what their reservations are, and see if maybe they can be resolved through some sort of compromise."

"And what if she's not interested in compromise?"

"Well then at least you'll know you tried."

"..."

"There's something you appear to be disregarding. If she responds unfavorably, it's possible that the reason is something other than you. She also just learned that she's going to bear not one, but two of your children. She may need time to digest that particular information, before making anymore major, life altering decisions."

"..."

"Whatever you do, don't put her on the spot. You should talk to her first. Address everything. If you take her by surprise, she will react negatively. She may even say _no_, when in actuality, had you approached her more discreetly, she would have said _yes_. She needs to feel like the decision was hers to make, that she had a choice in the matter."

"Discretion isn't exactly one of my strong suits."

"Then I guess this will be a challenge, won't it?"


	24. DELETED SCENES

PARTS OF CONVERSATIONS THAT I DELETED FROM PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Names given in order that the characters are speaking.

I was going to delete these, since they are unlikely to work in future chapters. But someone said I should post them anyway, just for the hell of it. So here you are.

* * *

**Cuddy & House**

"So...I guess everyone knows now."

"Yep."

"What are the chances of us having the same exact phone?"

"Pretty good apparently."

"How are we going to keep this from happening again?"

"You could trade it in for a different color."

"Like what?"

"I don't know…pink?"

"A pink phone?"

"Or some other color. My mother's is lavender."

"Your mom has a cell phone?"

"My dad made her get one."

"..."

"Want to guess what color _his _phone was?"

"Olive green?"

"Close, but no. It was gun metal gray with a flat finish and a United States Marine Corp logo. Even his phone was combat ready."

* * *

**Foreman & House**

"I went looking for you, at your apartment."

"Really. That's fascinating."

"I took that emergency key you gave me, during my initial fellowship."

"Aren't you a clever lad."

"The place was vacant."

"I was robbed."

"Uh huh."

"They took everything. They were very efficient. They even boxed it up and labeled it first."

"I'll bet."

"Then they moved it all to Cuddy's house. Strangest thing ever."

"I went to Wilson's place. He said you weren't there either."

"That's right."

"So…where exactly are you living?"

"I just told you, with Cuddy."

"Why didn't you mention that you were moving?"

"Same reason why I haven't filled you in on any of the other details of my personal life."

"I figured. Which is why I hacked into the personnel database."

"What idiot taught you how to do that?"

"Pretty sure it was you."

"Won't be making_ that _mistake again..."

"It turns out you updated the address on your W-4 just a few weeks ago."

"Yep."

"Which isn't strange all by itself. Except that under withholding you put _three_."

"So?"

"So who are the other two people?"

"I've decided to start claiming my Id and super-ego as dependents."

"You must have a hell of an accountant."

"He's actually in prison right now. But I'm sure he'll be out on parole in time to do my 2010 taxes."

"So where are you living?"

"I already told you, with Cuddy."

"Right."

"I take it you didn't bother hacking into _her_ personnel file?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd like to keep my job."

"How about if _I_ fire you?"

"You won't fire me."

"Why not?"

"Because then you'd have to go the trouble to find someone new and then spend several months breaking them in."

"Damn, you're right."

"…"

"How does it feel to know the only reason you're employed is because I'm a lazy bastard?"

"I get paid the same amount of money either way."

"Wow…and I thought I was emotionally detached."

* * *

**Foreman & Wilson**

"How much longer is this going to last?

"What?"

"House's regression into a horny fifteen year old moron."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know that he and Cuddy are living together."

"Um...and how exactly did you come by that information?"

"He volunteered it."

"So you know that they're uh..."

"Yes."

"And he knows that you know."

"Obviously."

"And so you know that he knows that you know."

"Um..."

"Leave him alone, Foreman. He's not hurting anything."

"I beg to differ."

"..."

"Do you know how many cases we have now?"

"No."

"Well at the moment, we have seven."

"You mean all at once?"

"Yes. We are now officially handling every case that ends up on House's desk."

"I don't know what to tell you, Foreman. At the moment, I have eighty-one patients. And as many as twelve of them have been admitted to the ICU at the same time. If you're looking for sympathy..."

"Palliative care is not the same as trying to diagnose someone with a mysterious illness. We're racing against the clock. All you're doing is keeping them comfortable...no offense."

"None taken. You're absolutely right. But I still can't help pointing out how easy you've all had it here."

"This morning, he actually bought in a bigger white board. It's huge. Have you seen it?"

"I…haven't been in his office since yesterday."

"It's three times the size of the old one."

"What's your real complaint here, Foreman?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...all you're being forced to do is what pretty much every other department in this hospital has been doing since it opens its doors. He's not breaking any laws. He's not doing anything crazy or dangerous. He's just working a little harder than he used to."

"Yeah...about that. You'd think more cases would mean more work, right? But we've barely had anything to do."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean outside of the differentials, we're pretty much sitting around, doing nothing."

"..."

"House now introduces himself to the patient and their family. Then he gets their medical history. And as if that weren't enough, he does all the charting. He also performs all the diagnostic procedures."

"By himself?"

"Sometimes he lets us assist."

"You quit once before."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You chose to come back. You_ chose _to work for him, meaning that you aren't bound or obligated to maintain that position. You are in fact, free to go at any time."

"Are you saying I should quit?"

"No…I'm saying you _could_ quit."

* * *

**Cuddy & House**

"I've never been to Disneyland. Have you?"

"Uh…yeah."

"When?"

"Nineteen seventy-nine."

"Wow."

"Crandall won tickets from this radio show contest. It was during the summer. So we made a road trip out of it."

"You drove all the way from Michigan to California?"

"Took ten days. Stopped in Vegas, went to the Grand Canyon, and Four Corners."

"What's Four Corners?"

"It's the spot where New Mexico, Utah, Arizona and Colorado meet."

"How exciting."

"Somewhere I have a picture of Crandall, trying to grope Snow White."

"…"

"Ironically enough, she was unreceptive to his romantic overtures."

"Why is that ironic?"

"Because a woman who is shacking up with seven men, is anything but virtuous."

* * *

**House & Cuddy**

"So you want me to dress…more formally."

"Yes."

"You have a problem with the way I look?"

"I'm not trying to say…"

"Just listen to me."

"Okay."

"You think I could look better if I did a few things differently."

"Yes."

"Well...I think _you_ could look better if _you_ did a few things differently."

"_Really_."

"And you're already defensive."

"I'm not…fine. Just tell me."

"I'm going to try and put this as delicately as possible, which for me is saying a lot."

"Okay."

"My mother used to say, there's no need to advertise if you're not selling anything."

"Meaning?"

"Maybe button that top button. Maybe that skirt shouldn't be so tight, or short. Maybe those heels don't need to be so high. Should I keep going?"

"You don't like the way I look."

"I love the way you look. I enjoy it very much. I just don't see why everyone else should get to enjoy it also."

"I had no idea you felt this way."

"So fifteen years worth of hooker jokes didn't tip you off?

* * *

**Cuddy & House**

"What time did you go to bed?"

"I didn't."

"You mean you've been in here all night?"

"Good of you to notice."

"You must be exhausted."

"I actually fell asleep on the floor for a while."

"That couldn't have been comfortable."

"It wasn't."

"…"

"The good news is, I ran out of things to vomit up a few hours ago. So it's just been dry heaves."

"What did you eat for dinner?"

"Same thing you ate."

"Maybe it was the feta."

"It was fresh. The basil was fresh. The oregano was fresh…_everything_ was fresh."

"…"

"I can't see how this could _possibly_ be amusing."

"It's not. It's just…ironic."

"How so?"

"This is the first morning in almost a month that I haven't been awoken by the desire to puke."

"Yeah well…whatever this is, I doubt that I got it from you."

"Why?"

"Because pregnancy isn't contagious."

"No...but _sympathetic_ pregnancy is."

"Yeah, that's me…Mister Sympathetic."

"Oh…my…God."

"Shut up."

"I can't believe it."

"I said _shut up_."

"Let me know when you start lactating."

* * *

**Cuddy's sister and Cuddy**

"So how is he?"

"What do you mean?"

"In the sack…scale of one to ten."

"Ten."

"I'm serious, Lisa."

"So am I."

"..."

"All the others…I don't know. I almost feel like…this is going to sound far fetched. But I never really had sex until I had sex with House."

"Damn...way to lay it on thick. Is that what he told you to tell people, if they should ask?"

"No…he'd probably be mortified if he knew I was discussing our sex life."

"But it's that good, eh?"

"..."

"And yet you sound like you're not sure."

"I _am_ sure…the sex itself is great."

"But?"

"But he's really quiet."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when we're making love. He doesn't speak and he tries to breathe without making any noise at all. It's almost like he doesn't want anyone to know that he's enjoying himself…not even me."

"Sounds like a head case, Lisa."

"He's not. I mean, not anymore than anyone else."

"Didn't you say he spent time in a mental hospital?"

"For depression, last year. He's over it."

"Is he taking any medication?"

"…"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Mom likes him."

"That's because she's comparing him to that loser you brought to Thanksgiving dinner last year. Where the hell did you find that guy, one of those singles websites? At least this guy has a real job and doesn't live with his mother."

"..."

"So seriously...what's so great about sex with this guy? Is it a size issue?"

"I tend to think that size is irrelevant. If a man knows what he's doing, it doesn't really matter how big he is."

"I take it that he's on the small side then?"

"No…he's definitely above average. I was just making a point."

"…"

"We have a system…it's very simple and it works for us."

"What kind of system?"

"House refers to it as _ladies first."_

"Huh."

"…"

"Wait...you mean to tell me that he won't…"

"Until I already have."

"Wow."

"…"

"And you uh…always?"

"I'd say about ninety-five percent of the time."

"What do you do during the other five percent?"

"I fake it."

"Why?"

"Because otherwise he'd deny himself."

"Told you he was a headcase."

"It's not...he says he can't enjoy it unless he knows for sure that I'm enjoying it. And aside from the obvious…he has no other way to gauge my enjoyment."

"Right...and you think he can't tell the difference?"

"I endeavor to be…convincing."

* * *

**House & Cuddy**

"Ha…that'll be fifteen yards."

"Fifteen yards for what?"

"Personal foul."

"I don't get it."

"What don't you get?"

"All he did was tackle the guy with the ball. Isn't that what he's supposed to do?"

"Technically, yes."

"Then how is that a personal foul?"

"Because he led with his head."

"I didn't even know that was a rule."

"Seems like most of the players are in the same boat."

"…"

"Tell me something."

"What?"

"Do you even like football or are you just pretending to enjoy this for my sake?"

"I don't _dis_like it."

"That's not an answer. It's an evasion."

"I just never bothered to watch it before. My dad was never interested in watching televised sports. I think the World Series was probably the only exception, and it depended heavily on which teams were playing."

"So is that a _yes_ on you pretending?"

"I'm trying to keep an open mind, House. I'm making an effort to familiarize myself with your interests."

"Why?"

"Well...you went with me to that paint your own pottery place. You didn't complain, despite the fact that you were probably bored out of your mind."

"I wasn't bored."

"…"

"Okay, I was. But now I have a spoon rest with a skull and crossbones on it. How cool is that?"

* * *

**Wilson & House**

"What are you making anyway?"

"A cabinet for the bathroom."

"Wouldn't it be cheaper to just buy one?"

"Yes, but then I wouldn't get that satisfaction that comes with a job well done."

"…"

"Also I wanted an excuse to use a table saw and an electric sander."

"I didn't know you had all these tools."

"I didn't."

"Well you couldn't have just bought them. They look used."

"I drove to my mom's last weekend, to help her clean out the garage and get rid of some of my dad's stuff. She was going to give these to the Salvation Army."

"There's got to be a couple thousand dollars worth of tools there."

"My dad used to say there was a _right tool _for every job."

"What the heck are those?"

"Snippers."

"What are they used for?"

"Snipping."

"_Snipping_ what?"

"They're for cutting sheet metal."

"Ah."

"All the tools in the big, green chest are for aviation maintenance and repair."

"Was that part of his job?"

"No. He was just a pilot. But depending on where we were living at the time, the pilots would get together in their spare time and try to build something from scratch."

"Build something...you mean your father actually _built _an airplane?"

"Several actually."

"Did they work?"

"They all got off the ground."

"I take it they didn't stay there."

"They did. Just not for long."

"…"

"He never mastered assembling a navigation system. It would appear to be working fine, at first. But as soon as he reached a certain altitude, the data would just go haywire."

"I wonder why."

"I think it was probably related to his choice in materials."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...lots of metals are ferromagnetic. Magnets can interfere with all kinds of things like radio signals, short wave, different forms of imaging…"

"..."

"Of course I made the grievous error of attempting to point this out to him."

"And?"

"Let's just say he was less than receptive to my input."

"Why do you think that was?"

"He didn't like the idea that I might be smarter than he was."

"Were you?"

"I used to think so."

"And now you don't?"

"I think that...intelligence isn't something that can be measured in numbers. It's not defined by the accumulation of specific knowledge, or accomplishments. It can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people."

"What are you saying?"

"That my dad may have been very smart, just in a completely different way."

* * *

**House and his mother**

"I need a recipe."

"Well, hello to you too."

"Hello."

"Greg, I haven't heard from you in two months."

"Yeah...I've been busy."

"I kind of gathered that from our last conversation."

"Anyway…recipe?"

"What recipe do you want?"

"Chicken salad."

"That's it?"

"Mine keeps coming out dry."

"Add more mayo."

"That's not the problem. It's the chicken itself. I know you used to do something to make it more moist. I just don't remember what it was."

"That's not my recipe, dear. I got it out of a cook book."

"What's your point?"

"That you could just as easily have gotten that information off the internet."

"You're saying you don't want to talk to me?"

"No…I'm saying that chicken salad probably isn't the real reason why you're calling."

"Do you have the recipe or not?"

"The last time we spoke, you called me up at the crack of dawn, desperate to know what you should feed an eighteen month old girl for breakfast. I'm not an idiot. What's going on?"

"I told you. I kidnapped the Lindbergh baby."

"The Lindbergh baby died two years before I was even born. Try again."

"…"

"Fine. We don't have to talk about it. I'm assuming you've been boiling your chicken?"

"Yeah."

"Instead of water, use chicken stock. Fill your pot with a few cans of stock and a few tablespoons of butter or margarine. Add some finely diced celery and red onions for flavor. Then dice the chicken and throw it into the pot. Use medium heat to bring to a slow boil."

"How long should I let it boil?"

"Depends on how small your pieces are. Forty-five minutes is usually enough. It could take as long as an hour and a half. Some people like to dice the chicken after it's been boiled, since it's easier to manage that way. I personally find it to be more moist if I dice it first and then boil it. But it's up to you. Then you drain the chicken, throw it into a bowl and add the other ingredients. I always like to chill it overnight. But it's not necessary.'

"So it's just the chicken, celery, mayo…"

"Lemon juice and sometimes I like to add some dill weed and black pepper."

"Cool."

"You don't have to call me, dear…and I know better than to expect it. But should you refrain from doing so, I hope it's because your life is so full that there just isn't time, and not because you don't want to talk to me."

"…"

"So tell me, Gregory. I've gone fifty-one years without asking you this question, mostly because I was afraid of the answer. But I doubt I'm going to have too many more opportunities to do so. So I have to know the truth…is your life full?"

"It's full, Mom. It's overflowing."

* * *

**Cuddy & House**

"Hey, did you see a green envelope on the counter? I went out to get the mail this afternoon and…"

"…"

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. Don't you knock?"

"Not in my own house."

"…"

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"..."

"Go ahead. You can say the M word. I won't be offended."

"Okay…why are you masturbating? To bad porn, no less."

"_All_ porn is bad porn."

"…"

"It's a stress reliever."

"Having sex with me isn't?"

"Sure it is, when I can get it. You've been busy this week."

"Six days. You can't go six days without sex?"

"Not when I'm used to getting it every eight hours."

"..."

"Besides that, when we're having sex, I'm paying attention to everything, what you're feeling, what I'm feeling. We drag it out so we can enjoy it as long as possible, because it actually means something."

"..."

"Jerking off is…well for a guy anyway, it's like eating or sleeping. It's just something the body needs. I equate it to taking multi vitamins or having my hair cut. Actually those are both bad examples, since I don't take vitamins or have my hair cut. But my point is still valid."

"And the porn?"

"Just to help move things along."

"I can't believe you're watching this."

"I can't believe you're still standing here, telling me that you can't believe I'm watching this."

"…"

"What the hell is that thing?"

"Something in the dildo family."

"A distant cousin perhaps."

"…"

"Is he going to stick that in her…"

"Yep."

"..."

"It gets better in a minute."

"That has to be painful."

"She seems okay with it."

"There's no way this is turning you on."

"My erection begs to differ."

"Is this why you wanted your own bedroom?"

"No. That was so I wouldn't wake you up at three in the morning, when I can't sleep and want to get some work done."

"Do you want some help with that?"

"I thought you'd never ask."


	25. Chapter 25

_Two weeks after previous chapter. This is admittedly just transitory filler. But I thought I'd post it anyway._

* * *

**Chapter 24**

"_Yow_za."

"What?"

"Is that what you're wearing to work?"

"Yes, I thought I'd forgo the top today. I need to work on my tan."

"Isn't it raining right now?"

"Good point. Forget topless. I'll have a wet t-shirt contest."

"Oh now you're just toying with me."

"..."

"Do you think it's too late in the semester for me to enroll in your class?"

"You missed the cut off date by two weeks."

"Are you available for any private instruction?"

"I'll have to check my schedule."

"Because I'm a really slow learner. I think I'm going to need a lot of one on one time...visual aids, lap dances, that sort of thing."

"I'll bet."

"..."

"What are you doing anyway?"

"Range of motion."

"Oh."

"..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It's just…I didn't know you stretched."

"Yeah...well, most days it's the only thing standing between my leg and an excruciating muscle spasm."

"How often do you do it?"

"Not as often as I should."

"How come I've never seen you do it before?"

"Because I go out of my way to do it when you're asleep."

"I'm not asleep now."

"I thought you'd left already."

"So it bothers you, that I'm watching you like this?"

"No."

"Your expression says otherwise."

"It doesn't _bother_ me. It just...makes me kind of nervous."

"Is that why you wanted your own bedroom?"

"That and so I could have privacy when I watch bad porn."

"Do you want me to come back when you're done?"

"No."

"I don't want you to be nervous, House."

"It's fine."

"It is?"

"The way I see it, at fifty-one years old...it's nice to know that there are still some things left for me to feel nervous about."

"That's an interesting way to look at it."

"Yeah."

"..."

"So...did you need something? There's no way you came in here just to watch me stretch."

"Actually, yes. I need a shirt."

"You have a whole closet full of shirts...a shrine to the wonders that are the bare midriff and plunging neckline."

"Yeah. I need one that fits over _this_."

"Over what?"

"My...bump."

"You're what, eighteen weeks? You're barely showing."

"Are you forgetting there's two of them in here?"

"Uh huh...each weighing less than six ounces and measuring about four inches in length. You're basically carrying lab mice at this point."

"Well I _feel _enormous."

"You're probably just retaining water."

"All the more reason why I want to be comfortable."

"Don't they make special clothes for that?"

"Yes."

"And it didn't occur to you to buy any?"

"I was waiting."

"Until what, you couldn't fit into my clothes either?"

"..."

"Look...you're past the four month mark. You're six weeks from viability. Your chances of going full term just quadrupled."

"I know."

"And you spent three hundred dollars on that state of the art fetal heart monitor. Doesn't it work?"

"It works. It's just hard to tell whose heartbeat is whose without an ultrasound to guide me."

"So get a portable ultrasound. They sell them online for as little as two hundred bucks."

"I know how much they cost. Who do you think ordered all the equipment for the hospital you're working in?"

"And now you're acting bitchy, because you know I'm right."

"I'm acting bitchy because I'm bloated and none of my shirts fit."

"Let me tell you something honey. They weren't fitting all that well before."

"..."

"Now _that_ was completely unnecessary."

"So was your comment."

"So let me get this straight. You can slug me whenever you want. But if I were to do it to you, it would be considered domestic violence?"

"The world is cruel and unjust."

"The world may be unjust. But you're the one who's cruel."

"Are you saying I shouldn't be worried?"

"It's not a matter of should or shouldn't. For the majority of emotionally healthy human beings, protecting one's offspring from uncertain harm isn't a choice. It's an instinct. It's not something they can just turn off or on at will."

"..."

"But whether or not you spend every waking second of the next twenty weeks worrying, the outcome will be the same. If anything, worrying will make it worse, not better. You should be saving your energy for something more important, like something you actually have control over."

"Somehow I never pictured you being the one to tell me that."

"Yeah well...you can blame my therapist. He's the one who reprogrammed me."

"I'll send him a box of chocolates."

"You'll have to send it to him at work. If you send it to his house, his wife will intercept it."

"Is she on some kind of health kick?"

"He's thirty pounds overweight, doesn't exercise, and has a family history of type two diabetes."

"Maybe I'll just send him a gift card."

"Yeah, for a gym membership."

"I'll pick something up when I go shopping for maternity clothes tomorrow."

"Wunderbar."

"But in the meantime, I need something to wear today."

"And you really think the appropriate garment is going to be found in my closet?"

"I'm considered non-staff. They don't exactly have a dress code."

"Must be nice."

"Like you have _ever_ followed a dress code."

"..."

"Look…can I borrow a shirt or not?"

"Fine. But my underwear is off limits."

"Which one?"

"You can take the one that says _I'm With Stupid_. Since Wilson and I don't hang out anymore, I've had no reason to wear it."

"What about this one?"

"I thought you hated Cheap Trick."

"I do. But it's the only one that matches my pants."

"That is _so_ the wrong reason to wear a t-shirt."

"Oh yeah? What's the right reason?"

"The whole purpose of the t-shirt is to give the impression of spontaneity and a general disinterest in one's appearance. Going out of your way to color coordinate just ruins the entire experience."

"I didn't realize you had so many t-shirts."

"..."

"The Eiffel Tower...you went to Paris? I thought you said you'd never been."

"My parents went in 2005. My mom sent me the shirts. There's a second one in there with a picture of the Louvre on it."

"They don't look like they've ever been worn."

"Because they haven't."

"I want to borrow this one."

"You can have it."

"Really?"

"In fact, take them both."

"Thanks."

"..."

"Oh God."

"What?"

"Oh no."

"What's wrong?"

"I have to sneeze."

"So?"

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"..."

"What...you can't tell me?"

"It's...embarrassing."

"Let me guess. You peed your pants."

"..."

"I'll interpret your silence as an affirmative response."

"..."

"Are we talking like a little wet spot or is it more like a few tablespoons worth?"

"Somewhere between the two."

"See_ this_ is why my underwear is off limits."

"..."

"Bladder control problems are fairly normal for pregnant women."

"Urinary incontinence doesn't usually present until the third trimester."

"The word _usually_ implies that while most of the time something happens a certain way...the rest of the time, it doesn't."

"Even if this were a direct result of my pregnancy, the fact that it's medically explainable is little comfort, when I have to run to my car between classes to grab a clean pair of underwear."

"Right."

"And naturally you're overflowing with compassion."

"What do you want me to say?"

"You could be slightly more sympathetic."

"I can't personally identify with your problem. I've never peed my pants...at least not while sneezing."

"So you _have_ peed them."

"Sure...I probably wet my bed at some point, when I was a kid."

"No."

"What do you mean, _no_?"

"You said you'd never peed your pants while sneezing. You wouldn't say that unless you knew for a fact that you'd peed them at some point, for some other reason."

"Not necessarily."

"..."

"Okay, once."

"Just once?"

"That I can remember."

"Meaning that there may have been incidences that you _don't _remember?"

"Supposedly."

"..."

"When I was a sophomore in college...I went to this party one night, a couple miles from campus. Upon returning to my dormitory, I was so drunk that I apparently went to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and proceeded to relieve myself without lowering my pants or underwear."

"And someone witnessed this?"

"No."

"Then how do you know what happened?"

"When I woke up the next day, my pants were soaked."

"Yes...but how did you come to the conclusion that you'd sat down on the toilet seat?"

"I vaguely recalled having been in the bathroom at some point. But also...my pants were wet in the back, as well as the front. If I'd urinated in my sleep, while laying down, my pants would only be wet in the front."

"Interesting."

"..."

"What about the other time?"

"What _other _time?"

"The other time you wet your pants."

"Why do you need to know?"

"I don't _need to know_. I'm just curious."

"You think that it'll make you feel better, knowing that at some point in the past, I lost control of my bladder?"

"Maybe."

"When I was seventeen, we were living in Virginia. My parents didn't have a whole lot of money to throw around. So I got a part time job, bussing tables at this little mom and pop kind of burger joint. The place served beer and wine. So you had to be eighteen to wait tables. Otherwise, all you could do was bussing and dish washing."

"..."

"There was this Indian guy working there, Hamal. He'd only been in the US for maybe a year or two. He was the absolute worst waiter I have ever met. It wasn't just the language barrier either. He would screw up the orders constantly, drop stuff, spill stuff. The owners tried to find someone to replace him. But apparently no one else wanted to wait tables for two dollars an hour."

"..."

"Anyway…his English wasn't great. But for some reason, he'd taken to calling everyone _Buddy_. There was another guy who worked there named Pete…Pete was a line cook. For some reason, he absolutely hated being called Buddy. I never did find out why. But suffice to say, Pete eventually grew so irritated by it, that he hatched a plan…the goal of which was to stop Hamal from using the word _Buddy_."

"..."

"It was Cinco de Mayo...and the owners of the restaurant were having this huge party at their house. I was the youngest person who had been invited, and the only minor in attendance. My dad would never have let me go, if he'd been home. But he was out of town and my mom didn't care, so I went."

"..."

"Soon after I arrived at the party, Pete took me aside and filled me in on his brilliant plan. It sounded harmless enough. So I agreed to help him."

"What did he want you to do?"

"Well...about ten minutes later, we cornered Hamal. We rather convincingly feigned interest in his well being and then proceeded to inform him that the word _Buddy_ was in fact an insult and he might get beaten up or arrested for using it."

"And he fell for it?"

"He wasn't terribly bright."

"..."

"Anyway...he actually thanked us for telling him, if you can believe it. Unfortunately it didn't end there."

"What do you mean?"

"Well since he would no longer be using the word _Buddy_, Hamal wanted to know what he should call people instead."

"A reasonable question."

"True...but we weren't prepared with an answer, mostly because it never even occurred to us that he would even ask. But he did ask and Pete spit out the first thing he could think of."

"Which was?"

"_Mother Fucker_."

"Oh my God."

"Yeah...so Hamal spent the whole night calling people that. And most of the people at the party were intoxicated. So no one really thought much of it."

"What does this have to do with you peeing your pants?"

"I'm getting to that."

"..."

"The following Sunday, I was working the lunch shift, which was normally very busy, due to all of the church goers. The place was packed. Hamal was waiting tables, as usual. I just happened to be within earshot when he brought these two old ladies their check."

"What did he say to them?"

"_Do either of you mother fuckers want some dessert?"_

_"..."_

"I came very close to emptying my bladder right there. I had to hide in the bathroom, because I couldn't stop laughing."

"What happened to Hamal?"

"Nothing. Like I said, no one else wanted to wait tables for two dollars an hour."

"..."

"So...do you feel better now or do you want me to piss myself in solidarity?"

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Good, because these are my favorite pants."


	26. Chapter 26

God, it took long enough. Sorry for the delay. I've been preoccupied.

House and Cuddy conversation.

* * *

**Chapter 25**

"House."

"..."

"House."

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"No."

"House."

_"What?"_

"I need to go to the hospital."

"Are you dying?"

"I...no..."

"Then you don't need to go to the hospital."

"I'm cramping."

"..."

"House."

"..."

_"House."_

"_Gah_...turn off the light."

"No."

"You're burning my retinas."

"Would you listen to me, please?"

"I _am_ listening."

"You're sleeping."

"Not anymore."

"I'm cramping."

"I heard you the first two times."

"..."

"I assume you mean abdominally."

"Yes."

"Okay."

"..."

"And?"

"I know I'm being paranoid. I know it's probably nothing."

"Couldn't agree more. Can you turn off the light now?"

"I just...I can't help thinking that I might be dilating."

"Does this theory have _any_ scientific basis whatsoever?"

"..."

"But you think you're dilating."

"Yes."

"And you want to go all the way to the hospital at four o'clock in the morning to find out?"

"It's not a matter of _want_."

"Pretty sure it is."

"I can't reach my own cervix, House…especially not with this belly in the way."

"Oh...well today's your lucky day then."

"Why's that?"

"Because as it turns out, I can reach your cervix just fine from here."

"..."

"No...I get it. I'm not offended. You'd rather sit four hours in a waiting room, exposing yourself and your unborn children to airborne pathogens, for the privilege of having a total stranger poke you in twat instead."

"That's not...I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Why?"

"I'd rather not put you in that position."

"What _position?_ You're the one who has to spread your legs."

"I just...I wouldn't want you to feel responsible...if something were to happen."

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"Like...I don't know. What if...what if you accidentally broke my water?"

"With my finger."

"Yes."

"Uh huh."

"It's been known to happen."

"Yeah...after thirty-six weeks, when you're fifty percent effaced and your amniotic sac is buckling under the pressure."

"I had a patient in the clinic once. She'd gone into labor at twenty weeks, _after_ her amniotic sac ruptured during a routine pelvic exam."

"Oh yeah...I remember that patient."

"You..._do?"_

"Isn't she the one who got pregnant from sitting on a toilet seat?"

"You're mocking me."

"No wait...it was a hot tub. Definitely a toilet seat or a hot tub."

"..."

"Since when do we believe everything that patients tell us?"

"It was in her file."

"Since when do we believe everything we read in files?"

"Her OB made the notation."

"Since when do we believe..."

"_House_."

"Next you're going to tell me we should abstain from sex for the remainder of your pregnancy, because you don't want the babies to see my penis."

"You think I'm being ridiculous."

"I...think you're being impractical."

"I'm _cramping_."

"You are aware that normally your uterus is about the size of an avocado and that it's slowly being stretched to the size of an NBA regulation basketball."

"I could be going into preterm labor."

"Or it could just be round ligament pain...or Braxton Hicks."

"Can you please be objective for a moment?"

"I _am_ being objective."

"Just...treat me like you would any other patient."

"Okay...you're an idiot. Good night."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Then you may want to be a tad more specific."

"Just pretend like we've never met. You don't know my symptoms or my medical history. Call me...Mrs. X."

"That's a lovely teddy you're wearing, Mrs. X. But you should probably get out of my bed before my girlfriend gets back."

"..."

"You want me to do a differential on _cramps_."

"Yes."

"I don't have anything to write on."

"Improvise."

"Okay...patient is a forty-three year old female, in her twenty-fifth week of a twin pregnancy, presenting with abdominal cramps and a sudden loss of her sense of humor. Go."

"..."

"Sorry...allow me. When did the symptom first present?"

"A little over an hour ago."

"Are you bleeding?"

"No."

"Any sort of pain or discomfort while urinating?"

"I haven't urinated in the last hour."

"Is the pain consistent or intermittent?"

"It's...fairly consistent."

"Has there been any fluctuation in the severity?"

"Very little."

"Are you having any pain in your lower back?"

"No."

"Are you having any pain anywhere else besides your abdomen?"

"No."

"Do you want me to call my team in here for a consult or should I just state the obvious?"

"I know it's not a typical presentation."

"It's not even an _atypical_ presentation."

"I know that, House. I know."

"But you still think you might be dilating."

"I'm cramping."

"_Cramping_ is not a diagnosis. It's barely even a symptom."

"I think all the ovulating members of the human race would probably disagree with you on that one."

"..."

"Look...I can't explain it, and I know I'm probably wrong. I just have to be sure."

"Well...let's see. There's no way your OB would agree to see you at the crack of dawn on a Saturday."

"I'm aware of that."

"And you're also aware that neither PPTH or the other two closest hospitals have urgent care facilities and that our walk-in clinic doesn't open until nine. That really only leaves you with one option...two actually. But you appear to have some mysterious aversion to the second."

"It's not mysterious."

"You want to go to the ER at four o'clock on a Saturday morning...for cramps."

"Yes."

"Just to make sure we're on the same page...you have a choice between being examined by me, who happens to be a licensed medical professional, immediately and in the privacy of your own home, or waiting a minimum of two hours to be examined in the emergency room by some second or third year resident who you've probably never met in your entire life."

"That's right."

"Did I already tell you that you're an idiot?"

"..."

"Okay...let's look at this logically. Wouldn't it make more sense to choose the guy whose fingers have already been in your vagina at some point?"

_"What?"_

"No sane person is going to agree to watch Rachel at this hour, which means we'd have to take her with us. So between getting ourselves dressed, getting her dressed and ready to go, driving to and from, filling out all the relevant paperwork, and waiting to be examined, there's a good chance that we still wouldn't make it back home until after noon."

"..."

"On the other hand, if you were to let _me_ conduct the examination, you wouldn't even have to change out of your nightgown. Now...I don't have a vagina. But that sounds like a pretty good deal to me."

"What about Rachel?"

"What about her? She's not going to wake up for another two or three hours at least."

"What if she _walks_ in on us?"

"We'll just tell her we're playing doctor."

"No."

"Then...lock the door."

"What happens if she wakes up and she needs something?"

"You didn't seem all that concerned about her walking in on us when we were having sex eight hours ago."

"..."

"And you're the one who insisted on moving her into her _big girl bed_. If she was still in her crib, we wouldn't be having this argument."

"I wanted to make the transition before the babies came."

"So it would be less obvious that you're upgrading to a newer model."

I'm not _upgrading_ anything."

"Forget the exam. I'm declaring you mentally incompetent."

"Oh for God's sake..."

"Face it...you're all out of excuses."

"..."

"It's going to take like_ thirty_ seconds...a minute tops."

"..."

"Tell you what. I'm going to count to three...and then I'm going to turn out the light, roll over and go back to sleep."

"..."

"One..."

"..."

"Two..."

"Alright...okay...fine."

"Wow...don't sound to happy about it."

"Make it fast, before I change my mind."

"Get yourself situated, Mrs. X. I've just got to grab something."

"What could you possibly need to grab?"

"PPE."

_"PPE?"_

"I've dedicated my life to preventing the transmission of bacteria."

"Uh huh."

"..."

"Do I want to know why you're in possession of an unopened box of large, powder free, latex gloves?"

"Probably not."

"Whoa."

"What?"

"..."

"More cramping?"

"No."

"..."

"They're moving around in there."

"Did you think they were going to hold still?"

"No. This is just the first time I've felt it."

"Oh."

"Give me your hand."

"Why?"

"First take off the glove."

"I just put it on."

"You've got a whole box of them."

"Does the word_ landfill _mean anything to you?"

"Like you even care about the environment. Take off the glove."

"You know you're not my boss anymore, right?"

"Put your hand right here."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"I don't feel anything."

"Give it a minute."

"Okay."

"…"

"I still don't feel...whoa."

"..."

"Okay, now that's just freaky."

"It's not _freaky_. It's beautiful."

"You're telling me that doesn't freak you out, just a little bit?"

"No."

"..."

"Okay…a little bit."

"Alright Mrs. X, are we going to do this or not?"

"Yes."

"Then you're going to have to scoot down."

"..."

"A little more."

"..."

"Okay, a _lot_ more."

"This is as _down_ as I'm scooting."

"Are you this annoying during all of your pelvic exams?"

"Yes."

"Can you feel that?"

"Of course."

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"What about that?"

"No."

"Big surprise...your cervix is intact. You're not dilating."

"Wait...that's _it?"_

"You want me to sing it to you, maybe do a little soft shoe? If you give me about an hour, I can probably put together a Power Point presentation."

"..."

"You think I'm lying, just so I can go back to sleep?"

"..."

"Okay...that does actually sound like something I'd do. But that's not the case here."

"..."

"You're fine. The babies are fine. Go back to sleep."

"I can't sleep now."

"_I _can."

"..."

"You want to be awake in case something happens? If by some chance you really _do_ go into labor, somehow I doubt that you'll sleep through it."

"I know. I'm just...all wound up."

"Right."

"..."

"So then...hypothetically speaking, it would probably be insensitive of me to just turn off the light, roll over and go back to sleep."

"Very."

"Okay."

"..."

"Um...I'm just going to be frank with you. If there's something I'm supposed to be doing right now, I have no idea what it is. So why don't you just tell me what it is you want. Because if you're hoping that I'll somehow figure it out on my own, you're going to be very disappointed."

"You don't have to _do_ anything, House."

"So we're just going to lay here then?"

"Do you want to talk?"

"Do _you _want to talk?"

"I don't know what I want."

"..."

"If you want to go back to sleep, go ahead."

"No."

"What do you mean, _no_?"

"I'm not falling for _that_ trap."

"It's not a trap. It really is fine. If you want to go back to sleep, go ahead."

"I know you're _saying_ it's fine."

"Why would I lie?"

"It's a test."

"To measure what?"

"I have no idea."

"Why do always assume that everything is part of some kind of game?"

"Because it is."

"..."

"Everything people do has a reason. Everyone has an agenda, whether they're aware of it or not."

"..."

"Take Wilson for instance."

"What about him?"

"Prime example of someone who is totally oblivious to their own agenda."

"Not that I disagree. But to what exactly are you referring?"

"His Facebook page still says that he's in a relationship."

"So?"

"So...he's not."

"And you think that's intentional?"

"I know it is."

"What purpose would that serve?"

"He's made his profile public. So he knows that Sam can see it."

"Assuming she's even bothered to look at it."

"Trust me, she has. He'll keep it up there as long as possible, as some sort of passive aggressive declaration."

"Declaration of what?"

"That he's not over her."

"And what is that designed to accomplish?"

"It will irritate her at first. She'll assume he's trying to manipulate her...which of course, he is. But she'll eventually feel guilty for dumping him. Then one of two things will happen. She'll continue to suffer, or she'll attempt to alleviate the guilt by getting back together with Wilson."

"Have you completely disregarded the possibility that maybe he just forgot?"

"He didn't forget."

"He and Sam broke up like a week ago. Nobody updates those things right away."

"_You_ did."

"You actually checked?"

"I was curious."

"I suppose you update _your_ Facebook page every day."

"I don't have one."

"Why not?"

"Because then you would start tagging me in all of those photos that you keep posting without my consent."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Like the one of me napping on the couch?"

"You mean, when you were supposed to be watching Rachel?"

"..."

"I actually haven't posted that one yet. I'm saving it for a rainy day."

"It really isn't necessary to blackmail me, you know."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Once a woman has seen the ridiculous face a man makes while he's having an orgasm, she pretty much has total control over the relationship."

"I came home and you were snoring away."

"I was tired."

"Uh huh."

"It's hard work bossing four other people around for six hours a day. I only get forty-five minutes for lunch."

"Meanwhile there was a chair in front of the counter where the cookie jar is kept and a trail of crumbs between there and the coffee table."

"Well you know I didn't put it there. Because I can reach the cookies without a chair."

"She must have dragged out every toy she owned."

"I fell asleep for like five minutes. I woke up and there was an entire herd of _My Little Ponies _on my chest."

"I think I may have it framed."

"Don't you dare."

"…"

"And Wilson's had more than enough time to update his relationship status. He goes online every day, every other day at the very least."

"How do you know?"

"He answers questions on some breast cancer website. He's committed to responding to inquiries within twenty-four hours."

"He couldn't possibly get _that _many questions."

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

"You send him questions, don't you?"

"How else would I learn that full body radiation won't cause me to lactate from my third nipple?"

"Do you get some kind of pleasure out of torturing him?"

"I would have thought that was implied."

"..."

"Give me a break. I could do _way_ worse."

"I know."

"..."

"Don't you think this has gone on long enough?"

"What?"

"You _know _what."

"..."

"I mean…you've had him in your crosshairs for a while now."

"Yeah…and?"

"Are you planning to actually fire at some point? Or do you just want him to spend the rest of his life wondering if you will?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"…"

"I _am_ kind of favoring the second one."

"I don't doubt that you have reasons, House. And I'm sure that they're good ones. I know you've known Wilson for a long time. But I have too. If you're holding your breath for some kind of…_grand_ apology, it's never going to come. Whatever it is you're holding against him...you might just have to forgive."

"In my experience, forgiveness tends to be defined as _giving someone another chance to screw you over_."

"But it doesn't have to be."

"Yeah, I know."

"You...do?"

"Everything you're saying is true."

"It _is?"_

"I'm just not there yet."

"..."

"Are you still cramping?"

"No."

"Glad to hear it."

"..."

"Would it be insensitive of me to just turn off the light, roll over and go back to sleep?"

"Not at all."

"Good."


	27. Chapter 27

__

Two weeks later. House and Dr. Nolan.

_Warning: unpleasant subject matter. This portion of the story will take place over several chapters. So it might not make total sense until they're all posted._

_THANKS FOR WAITING. SORRY._

* * *

**Chapter 26**

"You're the last person I expected to see walking though _that_ door tonight."

"..."

"Next to Elvis and Santa Claus, of course."

"I'm sure they'll be along shortly."

"What are you doing here? You don't usually make house calls...and I wasn't supposed to see you again until the twelfth."

"I was just passing through."

"I can't think of any reasonable explanation for why you'd be _passing through _the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital's NICU at ten-thirty on a Friday evening."

"James called me early this morning and notified me of your situation. I had a number of meetings and appointments today that I just couldn't get out of or postpone, or I would have come sooner. But I thought maybe you could still use some support."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing...I just didn't know that he'd called you."

"You didn't ask him to?"

"No."

"..."

"What exactly did he tell you?"

"He said that there was a placental abruption, which resulted in pre-term labor and disseminated intravascular coagulation...that they were going to perform an emergency c-section and if necessary, a hysterectomy."

"What time was that?"

"A little after eight maybe."

"So you haven't spoken to him since then?"

"No, I haven't. I tried calling both of you, once I got on the road. But neither of you picked up."

"..."

"Why?"

"..."

"What happened, Greg?"

"How many babies do you see here?"

"One."

"And how many are there_ supposed _to be?"

"What happened to the other?"

"_Perinatal asphyxia_...during delivery. I'm assuming as a result of being so premature."

"You're _assuming_. You mean you're not sure?"

"Well...there's no way to determine the cause of death without doing an autopsy."

"You haven't consented to an autopsy?"

"_I _have. She hasn't."

"..."

"She's got the damn kid on bypass, for God's sake. I mean, talk about denial."

"Why would she have him on bypass?"

"Normally deceased patients remain on bypass in order to perfuse their tissue and organs."

"Perfuse...you mean for transplant?"

"Yes."

"Would any of his tissues or organs be viable?"

"Not at twenty-seven weeks gestation."

"I see."

"..."

"I am so sorry, Greg. I definitely would have come sooner, if I'd known."

"It's no big deal."

"How can you say that?"

"I don't mean that what _happened_ isn't a big deal. I mean that...I wouldn't have expected you to drop everything, just for me."

"I would have."

"I know. That's why I didn't call you."

"Have the two of you discussed her decision to uh...keep the other baby on bypass?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"We just haven't."

"Well...what _have_ you discussed?"

"Nothing."

"_Nothing_ as in..."

"Nothing as in _nothing_."

"Did you have an argument?"

"No."

"..."

"It was actually more like the opposite of an argument."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Yeah well...can we talk about it later? I'm a little preoccupied right now."

"Of course."

"..."

"So...what happened?"

"She usually gets up around six thirty on Fridays. Her first class starts at nine and ends at noon. She apparently started hemorrhaging in the shower. She was actually going to drive herself to the hospital, if you can believe it."

"Why couldn't you drive her?"

"Because I wasn't there."

"You were at work already?"

"I suppose that's one way to look at it."

"..."

"Anyway...she was losing more blood than she thought. So she went into hypovolemic shock and collapsed while she was putting Rachel in her car seat."

"How did she get to the hospital?"

"The nanny pulled up behind her in the driveway, found her unconscious and called her an ambulance. Then she called me, to let me know what was going on."

"How long had she been laying there?"

"Judging by the fact that she's still alive...couldn't have been more than two or three minutes."

"Where's Rachel right now?"

"Wilson's watching her."

"Cuddy asked him to?"

"No, I did."

"I was under the impression that the two of you were, for lack of a better term, _estranged_."

"We are."

"But you asked_ him_ to watch Rachel."

"Yes."

"You could have just as easily called someone else, the nanny...Cuddy's mother perhaps...and yet you called him instead. Why?"

"I don't know."

"Somehow I doubt it."

"I knew that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't say _no_."

"Huh."

"..."

"But that wasn't the _only_ reason you called him, was it?"

"Why?"

"Well...you don't do anything arbitrarily."

"Meaning?"

"That there must be something that you could only get from him, something that would transcend whatever anger you might be harboring, in regards to your underlying disagreement."

"Yeah."

"And was he receptive?"

"Very."

"..."

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone get so excited about the prospect of being _needed_. I'm surprised he didn't get an erection."

"So you're acknowledging that you _needed_ him."

"What I needed was a middleman."

"For what?"

"To arbitrate."

"Wait...you mean between you and Cuddy?"

"Yes."

"And James was willing to do that?"

"It's what he lives for."

"So she collapsed in the driveway and the nanny found her. What happened then?"

"She was admitted sometime around seven thirty. The nice thing about arriving unconscious and via an ambulance is you get to skip triage and go straight to surgery. They ended up having to transfuse four units. The babies were delivered about thirty minutes later."

"Did she end up having the hysterectomy?"

"And a cholecystectomy."

"They removed her gallbladder as well?"

"..."

"Why would they do that?"

"I haven't had a chance to read the surgeon's report. But I'm guessing that it was inflamed, and since they already had her open, they figured they might as well remove it. She doesn't drink much alcohol, eat anything that's rich, high in fat or that contains a whole lot of preservatives. She'll probably never even notice it's gone."

"She could develop type two diabetes."

"She has none of the other risk factors and no family history."

"Are her platelets rebounding?"

"I haven't seen the post surgical numbers. Wilson said they ran a CCK...amylase, lipase, and a basic metabolic panel. If the results were abnormal, I'm sure he would have mentioned it."

"Dual organ removal is an incredibly invasive procedure. How is she recovering so far?"

"She's stable. Since the coagulopathy was a result of the abruption, once the cause was eliminated, it basically resolved itself."

"Were you present for the surgery?"

"I was...in the building."

"Huh."

"..."

"Forgive me...and I realize that this might sound incredibly naive. But there's something I just don't understand."

"What?"

"Why aren't you with her?"

"Because I'm here."

"But you don't _have_ to be here. I mean, you have a choice. You're choosing to be here, instead of somewhere else. I'm just wondering why."

"I asked her to marry me."

"When?"

"The night before last."

"She turned you down?"

"More or less."

"I'm...sorry."

"It was stupid."

"What was?"

"Me. I mean, I shouldn't have asked. Things were...fine, good even. It was stupid. I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"So she broke up with you?"

"No."

"Then you're still together."

"No."

"You broke up with _her_?"

"..."

"Why?"

"I would have thought that was obvious."

"But you said she doesn't want to marry you. That doesn't mean she doesn't want to be _with_ you."

"..."

"And how did she respond to your decision to end your relationship?"

"She didn't."

"You told you were leaving her, moving out, ending things between you...and she had nothing to say at all?"

"I didn't exactly_ tell _her."

"What _did_ you do?"

"Normally during the week, when I'm working, I go home around five or six."

"Okay."

"The next morning I went to work."

"And?"

"When five o'clock rolled around I just...stayed here."

"Here...you mean at the hospital."

"Yeah."

"And you're certain that she will accurately interpret that as a signal that you have officially ended your relationship."

"..."

"Did she make any effort to track you down?"

"She called me."

"How many times?"

"Seven."

"And you didn't pick up?"

"Nope."

"What about your things?"

"What things?"

"Well...you live together. I'm assuming you have possessions of some sort. If you're officially moving out, won't you be taking those with you?"

"Eventually."

"Huh."

"..."

"This...is bizarre."

"Yeah."

"So I take it you spent the past two nights on the couch in your office?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you look like a zombie."

"I'm fine."

"..."

"I don't feel tired. I doubt I could sleep right now, even if I wanted to."

"Have you eaten?"

"I'm not hungry."

"That's not what I asked."

"I had a granola bar."

"When?"

"I...don't remember."

"And how long have you been here in the NICU?"

"Since about ten this morning."

"That was over twelve hours ago."

"..."

"How's your leg?"

"It's fine."

"You're rubbing it."

"Yeah...I do that sometimes."

"Are you in pain?"

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"And how do you go about that exactly, _handling_ it?"

"By gritting my teeth and swallowing ibuprofen by the mouthful."

"And biting your lip, it looks like."

"Good of you to notice."

"So are those things helping?"

"Not especially."

"Does anything help?"

"Pacing...a hot bath, a massage, a smoke...more pacing."

"So go pace."

"I'd rather stay here...for now."

"But it would only be a few minutes, and you wouldn't have to go far."

"I'm not _going _anywhere."

"Why not?"

"I already told you. I'd rather stay here."

"..."

"If you know that something's a delusion, is it still a delusion?"

"In some cases. But for the most part, if you're aware of your own irrationalities, that tends to disqualify them as delusions."

"This is going to sound...ridiculous."

"Okay."

"I feel like if I leave...even for a few seconds, I'm going to miss something."

"You mean if you leave this ward?"

"I mean if I leave this _chair_."

"What is it that you think you're going to miss?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

"One of your sons died unexpectedly. And now you're afraid to step away from the other one, even for a few seconds, because you think that something will happen to him as well. That's hardly ridiculous."

"..."

"You're not delusional, Greg_. _You're neurotic."

"What's the difference?"

"Demographics usually. Kind of like how the homeless guy who talks to himself, while feeding pigeons in the park is _crazy_. But the wealthy businessman who dresses up like a pirate on the weekends is _eccentric_."

"..."

"A neurosis tends to be based on something that's already happened, or something that you know for a fact _could_ happen. A delusion is slightly less grounded in reality, and often has no basis whatsoever."

"..."

"The continual and inescapable fear that anything could go horribly wrong at any given moment is just part of being a parent. In fact, it's the very definition of being a parent."

"Well no wonder everyone is in such a big hurry to procreate."

"The sleep deprivation probably isn't helping your higher reasoning skills though, or your patience."

"I've gone _way _longer than this without sleep."

"That's not a good argument, Greg."

"Really...I'm fine."

"Right...until the psychosis sets in. Wait a few more hours and then you'll _definitely_ be delusional."

"..."

"So you're just going to stay awake and refuse to leave this chair until your son is ready to be discharged?"

"..."

"What are you punishing yourself for?"

"I'm not."

"Then why do you think you deserve to be uncomfortable?"

"I don't."

"Okay."

"..."

"So how long is he going to have to stay here?"

"I don't know yet."

"Nobody's discussed anything with you?"

"The pediatrician was here a little while ago. He came to tell me that with micro-preemies, the first seventy-two hours are the most important. He basically said, in so many words, that there's no point in assessing the kid's long term needs, until those seventy-two hours have passed."

"That's...rather cold."

"He was just doing his job."

"That doesn't mean he couldn't have been nicer about it."

"He's professionally obligated to extinguish anything that has the potential to evolve into false hope. It's not because he's an asshole. It's because he doesn't want to get sued."

"_Would_ it be false hope?"

"_All_ hope is false hope."

"You don't believe that."

"..."

"Do you?"

"I used to."

"And now?"

"Now...I don't know."

"So assuming that everything goes well, when will you get to take him home?"

"_I _won't."

"Right...so when will _she_ get to take him home?"

"Preemies are typically discharged sometime around their original due date, sometimes a little sooner. But it's not an exact science. Realistically speaking, it could be anywhere between eight and sixteen weeks before he's stable enough to be discharged."

"That makes sense. Are there other criteria, besides biological age?"

"Well...he needs to be producing the correct amount of both urine and stool, his bilirubin level has to be below eighty-five, his arterial blood gases need to be within the normal range. He also has to be able to respire without the ventilator and maintain an oxygen saturation of ninety percent or above."

"Has he produced any urine yet?"

"A few drops...color was good."

"What about stool?"

"He passed some meconium a few hours ago. But he hasn't had a regular bowel movement yet."

"Meconium?"

"It's dark and tar-like and consists almost exclusively of substances that the baby ingested, while it was still in the womb. It's mostly made up of bile, amniotic fluid and epithelial cells."

"..."

"He probably won't have a normal bowel movement for another day or two. But that's not a cause for alarm. Even full term babies can take several days to pass their first stool."

"..."

"He's not as jaundiced as I would have expected. His bilirubin is only slightly elevated. But the phototherapy should take care of that."

"Phototherapy?"

"The blue light...it's designed to convert excess bilirubin into an excretable form, a job which is normally performed by the liver."

"I don't have much experience with neonates. But I always thought that the light was used to keep them warm."

"It actually does both."

"Is it a comfort?"

"Is what a comfort?"

"Knowing all of this…being able to explain exactly what's happening to him and why?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"Greg...I realize that you have a lot on your plate right now. And I have no desire to cause you further stress by interrogating you about your break-up with Cuddy. But something about this just doesn't add up."

"What?"

"I just can't help thinking there must be something about it that you're not telling me."

"Nothing comes to mind."

"So you asked her to marry you and she just said _no_."

"More or less."

"More or less?"

"Yeah."

"She either declined or she didn't. There's no gray area there."

"It was...implied."

"..."

"She said that she needed to _think _about it."

"So?"

"It was the expression she made while saying it."

"What kind of expression?"

"Like...she'd just taken a bite of her favorite pie and realized it was actually fiberglass insulation."

"Huh."

"..."

"Is it at all possible that you might have misinterpreted her body language?"

"Possible...not likely."

"But she didn't say _no_, Greg."

"Might as well have."

"She said she needed to think about it. That's not the same thing at all."

"What the hell is there to think about?"

"What?"

"I mean, seriously...you either want to do something or you don't. When the waiter asks you if you want soup with your sandwich, do you tell him you need to _think _about it?"

"You think that choosing to marry someone is the same as ordering soup?"

"You either want something or you don't."

"And you've decided that she doesn't want you."

"_She's_ decided that. I haven't."

"Well you obviously know her better than I do. But I think it's quite possible that you're mistaken."

"That's funny...because I don't recall asking for your opinion, or your company for that matter."

"You're right. You didn't."

"..."

"But what happened to trusting me to help you _not_ screw this up?"

"Are you kidding? It's already screwed up."

"Irreparably?"

"You know what? Nothing in my life has ever turned out the way I wanted it to...not one damn thing."

"And you think you're the only one?"

"No."

"..."

"I suppose that's my point. It's the same for everyone."

"..."

"I mean, look at Cuddy for God's sake. She wanted to create life. And all she ended up creating was death…and this underdeveloped _thing_, that can't survive outside of a plastic bubble. Nobody gets what they want...not _really_, not completely. There's always a price."

"I see."

"You think I'm pathetic."

"Why would you assume that?"

"..."

"I...think that _you_ think you're pathetic."

"..."

"You're angry about a lot of things that have never been resolved...and you suffer from the misconception that you can somehow keep moving forward without addressing any of them. Because you're terrified to do so...and you think _that_ makes you pathetic."

"And you don't?"

"No, I don't. I think it makes you miserable."

"..."

"And you don't seem to grasp that you're actually perpetuating your own misery, by wallowing in every failure...even the ones that were completely out of your control."

"What's your point?"

"That you have control, maybe not complete control. But as far as this relationship goes, you have _some_ control...and this isn't the end unless you decide to make it the end."


	28. Chapter 28

_This is a continuation of the conversation in the previous chapter, between Nolan and House. It's been a while. So you might want to read the previous chapter again to refresh._

_Thank you for being so patient and waiting for me to update this. I apologize for the delay. I am dealing with some major personal issues._

_I just want to let you know that I have already plotted out the remainder of this story. So even if I take a while to update, it will not be abandoned._

_And I'd like to add that I'm really dismayed with the direction the show has taken, even if it is just a plot device or a pathetic ploy for ratings._

* * *

**Chapter 27**

"So...how much does he weigh?"

"Exactly one pound."

"Wow."

"Apparently that's about average for a baby who's born at twenty-seven weeks."

"And how long is he?"

"Twelve and a half inches, which is on the tall side for his gestational age."

"Is that tall?"

"Eighteen to twenty-two inches is considered to be average for full term babies."

"Was he affected by the abruption as well?"

"The two minute Apgar score was eight...aside from the expected complications of having been born prematurely, he _seems_ to be perfectly healthy, _seems_ being the operative term there."

"So you think something might be wrong?"

"No, I think something _could _be wrong."

"But do you have any reason to think something _is_ wrong?"

"At this point, he's got about an eighty to eighty-five percent chance of survival."

"Those sound like good odds to me. That's also not what I asked."

"Those are his odds for _survival_. Survival with no complications...the odds are much less."

"What sort of complications?"

"He may have suffered a hypoxic brain injury, or have some structural heart issues that we have yet to detect."

"And when will you know for sure?"

"The symptoms of developmental disability could take years to present."

"..."

"Which as a psychiatrist, you already know."

"..."

"Which means you're just here to distract me with pointless questions."

"I don't think they're pointless."

"..."

"How am I doing so far?"

"Crappy."

"Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"You're right. I'm not."

"..."

"I _am _curious about something though."

"Of course you are."

"Whatever caused the abruption...might that also be what caused the miscarriages before?"

"Probably...there's no way to know for sure, and I don't think she's going to try too hard to find out."

"Why not?"

"Because she has nothing to gain from acquiring that information."

"Don't _you_ want to know?"

"Not especially."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Somehow I doubt she'd be awarding me any points for solving that particular mystery."

"That doesn't mean you wouldn't derive some satisfaction from figuring it out."

"..."

"So...when will she be able to come see her other son?"

"If she has no post-op complications, in about thirty-six hours."

"That's a long time."

"Time is relative."

"I took that into account when I made the statement."

"..."

"It's a shame that the NICU is so far from the recovery ward. It's not even on the same floor."

"Yeah...there's reason for that, although I would have thought it was fairly obvious."

"Apparently not."

"I'm assuming someone decided, at some point, that it would be cruel to put the parents of deceased infants in a place where they'd be likely to hear other babies crying, so soon after the death of their own."

"Makes sense."

"They even have these stickers that they slap on the doors."

"Stickers?"

"They're intended to discreetly let all staff members know that the patients in those rooms have lost their baby. That way no one gets upset at anyone else for asking awkward or inappropriate questions."

"That's a good idea."

"..."

"But you've been _here _all this time."

"So?"

"So...do the members of the staff who come into contact with you know that you've _also_ lost a child?"

"I don't know. A handful of them probably do."

"But the rest...what's to stop _them_ from upsetting you with any awkward or inappropriate questions?"

"Uh...I don't get _upset_ that easily."

"Yeah, I noticed. You're a pillar of rationality and strength."

"..."

"What about Cuddy?"

"What about her?"

"Does _she_ get upset that easily?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Well you just told me that you're not upset about your son's death. I'm just wondering if you've taken into consideration the possibility that not everyone involved has been similarly affected."

"What do you want me to say?"

"What do you _want_ to say?"

"Nothing."

"Alright."

"I'm sure she's devastated."

"Okay."

"I mean, you really think I _need_ you to tell me that?"

"I don't know, do I?"

"No."

"Okay."

"..."

"So clearly you're well aware that she's probably upset right now."

"..."

"And yet, here you are."

"Oh for God's sake..."

"We've established that you know what she's probably feeling. What I'm wondering is whether or not you care."

"This is not about _what she's feeling_."

"Well it's obviously not about what _you're _feeling. I'm just wondering what that leaves."

"Did you come here to harass me?"

"Do you actually think I'm going to say _yes_?"

"..."

"I'm here because you need me."

"Now _that's_ debatable."

"You have openly admitted to needing me, Greg, on numerous occasions. You can't take it back now."

"Yeah well…I don't need you at the moment, not for this."

"And I think you do."

"And I think you're a narcissist who takes his job way too seriously and becomes far too involved with his patients."

"I think my wife would probably agree with you."

"Smart woman."

"But I said I'd help you. More importantly, I said I'd try _harder _to help you, harder than I was trying before. So…here I am. I'm trying harder."

"..."

"You're being irrational."

"No kidding."

"No…I mean, you're always rational, and you're _not _being rational. Which means you're being emotional."

"Look, one kid's dead and this one is probably next. I realize I'm a bit more detached than the average Joe. But I'm sorry if I can't find the logic in that."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what the hell _are _you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Cuddy."

"What about her?"

"You say you don't want to see her."

"Because I don't. I_ really_ don't. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because there's no logical reason why you wouldn't."

"I _told_ you…"

"That you asked her to marry you and she said she _needed to think about it_."

"…"

"Give me a break."

"What?"

"Less than two days ago, you were in love with her…apparently to the point that you were fully prepared to spend the remainder of your life with her…"

"Thanks for the recap…"

"So clearly you're still in love with her, regardless of whatever anger you might be harboring about her...I mean, I'm sure you're not happy about her knee-jerk reaction to your proposal. But you don't stop loving someone just because…"

"Yeah, I still love her. Brilliant deduction, Holmes. What's your point?"

"She's recovering from invasive surgery."

"Big deal. So are at least a hundred other people in this building."

"She could have bled to death in her own driveway."

"But she didn't."

"But she _could_ have."

"But she didn't."

"You both just lost a son. She hasn't even _seen _this one. You know that medically speaking, there's absolutely nothing you can do for this baby just by sitting here...and yet you claim that_ this_ is where you want to be."

"Because it is."

"Why?"

"It...I just do. I need a reason?"

"Most people wouldn't. But yeah...you do."

"..."

"So you're telling me you that you have no desire to comfort her whatsoever...to allow her to cling to you during this difficult time?"

"Comforting and clinging..._not_ really among my strengths."

"So you'd rather just not try? Because why...you might fail? She might not be receptive? You're afraid of rejection?"

"Maybe I just don't care."

"You've been sitting here for over twelve hours. You obviously care about something."

"..."

"Does she know where you are right now?"

"Probably."

"But do you know for sure whether or not she knows where you are?"

"Wilson said he mentioned it to her."

"Did she issue any sort of reply?"

"If she did, he neglected to pass it on."

"You don't find that strange?"

"That Wilson has poor communication skills? I'm sure his parent are to blame. Of course he _did_ go to school in Canada."

"That she's made no effort to contact you herself."

"Obviously she has nothing to say to me."

"Do you really believe that?"

"..."

"I'm not buying it."

"Buying what?"

"Look, I'm a behavioralist. I believe that everything people do can be explained. And I know for a fact that you subscribe to a similar theory."

"..."

"Your actions...don't make sense. What you're telling me, doesn't make sense. There's got to be some other reason why you don't want to see her."

"Did it occur to you that maybe what you should be trying to figure out is why _she_ doesn't want to see _me_?"

"No."

"Of course not."

"She's post-op, confined to her bed for the next thirty-six hours. You said as much yourself."

"Gurneys roll."

"Okay...you on the other hand, could very easily walk out of here, get on the elevator and be in her room in less than three minutes.

"Ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"It would take at least five."

"You claim that you don't want to see her because she snubbed your proposal...which equates to what? You made yourself vulnerable and she rejected you."

"..."

"So whatever reason you have for avoiding her...it's apparently more frightening than vulnerability or rejection."

"If you say so."

"What's more frightening than vulnerability and rejection?"

"Godzilla?"

"I'm serious."

"_Mecha-_Godzilla?"

"Where's the ring?"

"What?"

"The engagement ring. You said you proposed. I assume you purchased a ring and presented it to her at some point. Where is it?"

"Why does it matter?"

"I'm just curious."

"..."

"Did you return it?"

"Nope."

"Are you planning on returning it?"

"Nope."

"Because you think there's still a chance that you might stay together."

"No, because I'm an idiot and I got it engraved."

"Why would you do that?"

"I just told you, I'm an idiot."

"Except that you're _not_ an idiot."

"..."

"Getting married is a pretty big decision...not just for you, but for anyone."

"Yep."

"And you fear change...you always have."

"Okay."

"I imagine a change of that magnitude, even a positive change, would be terrifying."

"..."

"So what would be a bigger decision...one that would result in a bigger change than getting married?"

"I have _no_ idea."

"Death."

"What?"

"The biggest change a person can undergo is death."

"Obviously you've never watched _Extreme Makeover_."

"Now uh...I realize that your son is technically dead. But he isn't_ officially _dead until you take him off of bypass, correct?"

"I don't have a problem with taking the kid off of bypass."

"Then why haven't you done it?"

"Because it's up to her."

"You mean you've _left _it up to her."

"..."

"How convenient for you."

"..."

"That's funny?"

"Nope."

"And yet you're laughing."

"I'm...smiling."

"At something that is most definitely _not_ amusing. Which means that whatever it is you're afraid of…I'm really close to figuring it out."

"Why the hell are you here again?"

"Wow, I must be _really_ close."

"I changed my mind. I think I'm going to go pace. You can stay here and watch the kid."

"What are you running from?"

"Nothing."

"Then why leave?"

"Because you're annoying me."

"And you'd like to go pace now."

"Yes."

"After sitting here for over twelve hours, terrified to look away from your son for five seconds, for fear that he might vanish into thin air."

"..."

"I'm here to help you Greg. Let me help you."

"..."

"Alright. You're right. I'm sorry. You're right. You want to go pace? Go pace. I'll be happy to sit here with your son."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"..."

"But just for the record, I think you're being a coward."

"You think I'm going to be that easily baited?"

"No. I think you're incredibly exhausted and that, deep down, you'd rather just tell me what's going on than lead us both on some wild goose chase."

"You underestimate me."

"..."

"God, you're annoying."

"I know."

"I mean really annoying."

"I know."

"Cuddy's sister."

"What about her?"

"We went to dinner at her place a few weeks ago. Her husband's little brother has muscular dystrophy."

"Okay."

"Apparently the brother heard of this amazing experimental procedure he could undergo to postpone the progression of his symptoms. Long story short, he wasn't eligible, due to some other health complications. But knowing that Cuddy and I are both doctors, he saw fit to share it with us."

"What exactly would the procedure have entailed?"

"A...transplant of sorts."

"A transplant of what?"

"It's...complicated."

"So simplify it for me."

"When a fetus is still developing, its cells are in the blast stage."

"You mean they're stem cells."

"No…they're no longer stem cells in the traditional sense, because they're not multipotent. Stem cells have unlimited potential. They can become anything. Cells in the blast phase have already been differentiated, which means that they have one purpose, one function."

"Right right...okay."

"If you harvest one particular type of these cells, you could theoretically graft them into a host and reproduce just about any specific kind of organ or tissue."

"..."

"You could even grow new muscle."

"Wait...are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"..."

"But you said it's already being done."

"On late stage muscular dystrophy patients with nothing left to lose. I mean, the release forms alone...there'd probably be a stack a mile high. And no insurance company would cover it."

"And you think this is why she has your son on bypass."

"Because I know her...because it's the only logical explanation."

"..."

"You should have seen her eyes light up when he was talking about it...right up until he told her where the graft came from. I'm sure it never occurred to her that...I mean, she'd never go for something like this. Not unless..."

"Not unless there were very specific circumstances."

"Right."

"…"

"I can't do it, obviously."

"Um...why the hell not?"

"Are you kidding?"

"No."

"I...because. He's...I just can't."

"Greg...you wouldn't be shooting electrodes into your brain. You wouldn't be putting yourself in a coma and hoping you wake up pain free. This is practical, medically viable and almost guaranteed to be successful."

"You don't understand."

"I sure don't."

"I just can't, okay? Why can't you just leave it at that?"

"Because it's _not_ okay. It's not okay, Greg. Apparently there's a very real, very plausible means by which you could regain physical mobility and possibly even reduce your pain. Why the hell would you pass it up?"

"…"

"Maybe you don't want that."

"Want what?"

"Maybe you've become so used to being immobilized, that you've defined yourself by it. Maybe you don't want to change it."

"I don't define myself by my disability."

"Then why the hell are you sitting here, with a solution just out of reach?"

"I just…I want everything to stop. I just want to stop everything. Just stop it how it is right now. Just _stop_."

"So you can do what?"

"I don't know…figure it all out."

"What the hell is there to figure out?"

"You don't get it. None of this...this wasn't _supposed_ to happen."

"What wasn't?"

"What I mean is, I shouldn't even be here."

"Be where?"

"Here..._here_ in this room."

"But you _are_ here, Greg. What was _supposed_ to happen is irrelevant."

"I went home that night, planning to kill myself."

"…"

"You know that right?"

"I...suspected. But you never actually said. You were doing so well I didn't think we needed to explore it."

"Then she walked in. I wasn't expecting that. I mean that's just…that's not how my life goes, you know? It's usually the opposite. And twenty minutes later…we're in bed. And in the morning, she was still there. And a few weeks later, she was pregnant, then we were living together, then she wasn't pregnant, then she was..."

"And now you're here."

"When you're alone…I mean for a really long time, you get used to doing things a certain way. You have routines. You have…a system. Because it's comfortable…because it gives you a sense of control over your life."

"But that's not real."

"…"

"All that control you think you have? It's not real. This…what's happening right now, _this_ is real. This is about as real as it gets."

"I know."

"And you're terrified."

"Yeah."


	29. Chapter 29

_Upon the advice of a friend, I'm going to start posting some of the notes I've been sitting on for the last year, in relationship to other works in progress. They total about 40,000 words. I wasn't going to post them initially because they don't make a complete cohesive story and I'm kind of OCD like that. But I figure there's no harm in it and someone might read them._

* * *

_A discussion about House's taste in porn turns into something deeper -dialogue only (Cuddy House)_

"What is this?"

"What does it look like?"

"A video."

"Then that's what it is."

"I found it with your porn."

"That's because it _is_ porn. If you found under the sink with the cleaning supplies, then I'd say you might have a problem."

"…"

"Why were you looking through my porn?"

"I was curious."

"And with all the material available to you, _that_ was what elicited your concern?"

"You've actually watched this?"

"Uh…I haven't in a long time. But yes, I've actually watched it."

"This turns you on?"

"I'm going to assume that's a rhetorical question."

"You get turned on by the idea of a woman being gang raped by four men in a dark alley?"

"It's a movie."

"Your point being?"

"It's not real."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"You think I'm secretly harboring a desire to participate in violent, group sexual assault? If so, you'd have to admit that I've hid it pretty well..."

"I don't know what to think."

"Would you believe me if I told you Wilson bought it?"

"Did he?"

"No. Wilson's taste in porn is substantially less sophisticated."

"You think this is _sophisticated_?"

"Well...I just meant compared to most generic guy on girl skin flicks."

"So let me get this straight. At some point in the not so distant past, you actually _enjoyed _watching this?"

"_Watching_, yes."

"…"

"I also enjoyed watching Bruce Willis blow up an asteroid...after which I successfully suppressed the urge to acquire a nuclear warhead and a space shuttle."

"..."

"Look, she's an actress. Everything she participated in while filming that movie was consented to in advance. It probably even says so in the credits."

"Frankly I'm appalled that a movie like this even exists."

"Yeah well...I feel the same way about the Police Academy films. But you don't see me pitching a fit over it."

"I can't believe you're trivializing this."

"I'm trivializing it because, in the grand scheme of things, it's trivial."

"You mean there's something worse than this?"

"Define _worse_."

"..."

"I take it you've never seen snuff porn."

"I don't think I know what that is."

"Seriously? Are you sure you went to medical school?"

"..."

"It's basically where a person, usually a female, is raped by one or more persons, usually male, and then executed in some fashion."

"Executed."

"Killed, murdered, _snuffed _out as it were...hence the name."

"You've actually _seen_ this?"

"In the Philippines, over twenty-five years ago, in a projection movie theater. Not completely sure about the authenticity."

"But not here in America."

"Well I'm not on top of federal law. But from what I understand, in the United States at least, it's illegal to even be in possession of it...or to be in the company of someone who's in possession of it, or to even _know_ someone who knows someone who..."

"But there are people who are actually turned on by that?"

"Apparently."

"That's disgusting."

"A couple of years ago, some guy made a movie of himself having sex with a horse, during the process of which he inadvertently perforated his colon. He later died of sepsis."

"Are you trying to make this seem less disgusting by comparison?"

"No...I'm just trying to remind you that human beings are sick mother fuckers."

"Including you."

"Including all of us."

"..."

"Look, if it will make you feel better, just throw it away."

"And you wouldn't care?"

"That you disposed of something that I've had for fifteen years and didn't even remember owning until you waved it in my face two minutes ago? Gee, I think I'll get over it."

"Fair enough."

"Seriously? You're just going to let it go?"

"Do I have any other choice?"

"You could mope about it for a few days, withhold sex and passive aggressively guilt me into doing something menial or unpleasant, like cleaning the garage or sitting through a meal with your mother."

"I couldn't _guilt_ you into anything."

"That's probably true. But you could still mope and withhold sex."

"I think I'll just put this in the trash."

"You do that."

"..."

"So why were you _really_ looking at my porn?"

"I already told you. I was curious."

"Yeah, I got that. About what?"

"About _you_."

"..."

"You don't talk to me, House."

"I talk to you all the time. Just yesterday we had a very stimulating conversation about Kanye West's coffee table."

"You don't talk about what you want."

"Ah...and you were hoping to gain some deeper insight into my desires by investigating my taste in pornography?"

"Maybe."

"Instead of just coming out and asking me."

"Like that would make a difference."

"Never know until you try."

"I ask you things, House."

"You beat around the bush."

"Oh, look who's talking."

"I'm evasive. If you want something from me, you have to be direct. You know this."

"Yes, I do. And this was me being direct."

"I see."

"..."

"You know...I used to think there were two categories of people in the world."

"I can't wait to hear this."

"I thought there were the people who liked porn and approved of it and the ones who didn't like it and disapproved of it. But I eventually discovered that there's a third and much more interesting category altogether."

"Which is what?"

"People who _like_ porn, but disapprove of it."

"…"

"In case you were wondering, that's the category you're in."

"I don't disapprove of porn, House. I disapprove of some woman being raped and beaten for theatrical purposes."

"You do realize there are hundreds of thousands of women who actually enjoy the idea of being beaten and raped."

"And you think that makes it okay? Obviously there's something wrong with them."

"I'm not saying it's okay. I'm not even saying it's normal or healthy. I'm saying that you're lacking in perspective."

"How so?"

"You look at this movie and assume the woman on the cover is a victim."

"She _is_ a victim."

"Okay...that's the role she's playing in this particular movie. But it's scripted, and she's also played the same role in dozens of other similarly themed movies."

"What's your point?"

"That she actively chose to produce movies of a specific genre."

"You're not serious."

"She had a great body. She could have made any kind of porn. She probably could have made donkey porn. But she _chose_ to make that particular kind."

"_Donkey_ porn?"

"You're picturing some battered, tiny woman with post traumatic stress disorder, sporting a perpetual body cast. I'm telling you...she's probably retired in a beach house in Pensacola."

"Well good for her."

"I'll say."

"..."

"And that really messes with your head, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"People wanting things that they shouldn't want."

"Why do you turn everything into a philosophical debate?"

"You're the one who was hoping to discover some deeper insight into my character by examining my taste in porn."

"You're saying I shouldn't read anything into this?"

"Like that would stop you."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It doesn't mean anything."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Oh for God's sake..."

"What else are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing. I'm not hiding anything. It doesn't _mean_ anything. It's just a movie."

"..."

"Look, it's like...Vicodin."

"What is?"

"Porn. I mean, it's not, but it is."

"How so?"

"When I first started taking Vicodin, I was taking the recommended dosage. And it was effective, for the most part. But in order to reap any benefits, I eventually needed more...a lot more."

"I don't follow."

"It's not something I'm proud of. But I'm sure it wouldn't take a genius to deduce that I was exposed to porn at a very young age, probably younger than I should have been. By the time I was eighteen I'd pretty seen everything there was to see. After a while the conventional stuff just wasn't enough. I was watching anything I could get my hands on, no matter how...ridiculous."

"And this movie?"

"I watched it once. I honestly didn't even know I still had it."

"Then why defend it? Why...trivialize my concerns?"

"Because I don't like feeling judged."

"I'm not...judging you."

"Oh, the hell you're not."

"..."

"I've done a lot of things in my life that you don't know about, some of them very, very bad."

"I kind of figured."

"Yeah, and I kind of figured that you figured. But I don't want that to be who you see when you look at me."

"It isn't."

"Right. Did _you_ watch the movie?"

"What do you think?"

"So you didn't even watch it. But you think you know_ all_ about it, just by looking at a two by two inch image on the cover."

"There_ is_ a brief description, and of course the title. Doesn't really leave much to the imagination."

"Do I?"

"What?"

"Well you think you know all about me by examining my taste in porn. Tell me what you've managed to extrapolate from the title, tiny picture and brief description on the cover of _my_ box."

"I think I know you a little better than that."

"If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"You're going to try to make this about me?"

"It _is_ about you."

"..."

"I've had that video for fifteen years. And for the majority of that time, it's been sitting in a cardboard box in my closet. When I moved in here, you went through that box, because you wanted to make sure that any x-rated material was properly stored, so Rachel wouldn't accidentally find it."

"So?"

"So you can't just come right out and ask me how I feel or what I want. You chose to go digging through my old crap, pull out something I barely remember owning, and assign meaning to it."

"I ask you how you feel all the time. You give me vague answers. Sometimes you don't give me answers at all."

"That's because you usually have an agenda."

"What does that mean?"

"If we're going to your mom's for dinner, you ask me how I feel. But what you really mean is _are you in a decent enough mood that you're not going to be easily agitated, thus increasing the chances that you're going to say something to embarass me_?"

"..."

"When you're hoping to get laid, you ask me how I feel. But what you really mean is _are you so distracted by whatever case you happen to be working on that you won't be able to devote sufficient attention to getting it on with me?_"

"House, everyone does that. Everything we do and say is based on some agenda. How the hell is that wrong?"

"It's not _wrong_. I'm just saying if you're dissatisfied with the results, you may want to consider changing your agenda."

"How?"

"Stop making assumptions."

"What assumptions am I making?"

"I don't want to argue with you."

"You're the one who brought it up."

"Yes, but if I answer that question honestly, it will lead to an argument."

"Is that why you don't tell me how you really feel or what you really want, because it will lead to an argument?"

"That's...part of it."

"Well after seeing this, I'm not so sure I want to know what you _really_ want."

"Right, another assumption. Perfect way to end this conversation."

"It's not over."

"It is if I say it is."

"It's not...fine. You want to end it? End it."

"Have I ever hit you?"

"What?"

"Have I ever assaulted you, forced myself on you, restrained you and had my way with you?"

"..."

"Aside from that one incident with the bunjee cords, which I don't think really counts."

"No."

"And I could, right? I mean, you're in good shape. But I easily outweigh you by ninety pounds. And if by some chance I were really desperate, I've got enough cash to find a hooker who'd be willing to let me beat and violate her. I might even be able to find one who would enjoy it."

"..."

"But I haven't."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of grand accomplishment or sign of restraint on your part?"

"You know what? I give up. It doesn't matter what I say anyway. Think whatever you want."

"No, House...look, I'm sorry. This threw me, okay? This really threw me. Finding this was...weird."

"It's only weird if you make it weird."

"You don't think it's weird?"

"Of course it's weird. It's sick. Lot's of things I've bought are weird and sick, some a lot weirder and sicker than that. But they're not relevant to my life right now."

"..."

"They're only relevant if you make them relevant."

"So you're saying I should just throw this away and forget I ever saw it."

"If you don't mind."

"Okay."

"..."

"House?"

"What?"

"What _do_ you want?"

"..."

"See? You can't even tell me."

"Because I don't know how to answer that."

"Are you happy?"

"I don't know how to answer that either."

"It's not complicated."

"It _is_ complicated."

"It's a yes or no question."

"I'm...content."

"But not happy."

"..."

"Why can't you say?"

"Because I'm not entirely sure I know what that means."

"Well, what do you _think_ it means?"

"I think...happiness is a fleeting, temporary state that's not designed to exist for an extended period of time."

"Why not?"

"Because if life were one, continuous orgasm we wouldn't get anything done."

"True."

"I like where I'm at, Cuddy. Is that good enough for you?"

"I guess it'll have to be."


End file.
